


A Promise Kept

by SilverDust09



Series: A Promise [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rhaegar Won, Blackfyre Rebellion, F/M, Lyanna Lives, M/M, R Plus L Equals J, Rhaegar Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:14:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 26
Words: 79,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22547611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverDust09/pseuds/SilverDust09
Summary: Three years after Prince Aemon's disappearance beyond the Wall, the game continues...
Relationships: Aegon Targaryen/Rhaenys Targaryen (one-sided), Aegon Targaryen/Shireen Baratheon, Alysanne Targaryen/OC (minor), Arya Stark/Edric Dayne (minor), Daenerys Targaryen/Aurane Waters (minor), Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow/Val (minor), Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen, Myrcella Lannister/Gaemon Targaryen, Rhaenys Targaryen/Willas Tyrell, Robb Stark/Allyria Dayne, Sansa Stark/Domeric Bolton, Viserys Targaryen/Ysilla Royce
Series: A Promise [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1622248
Comments: 861
Kudos: 530





	1. The Forgotten Prince

**The Forgotten Prince**

A wasteland of snow and ice stretched as far as the eye could see. He passed bare trees with icicles hanging from their massive branches, the icy wind piercing deep into the patches of skin he left uncovered by the shawl and furred cap placed upon his head.

He didn’t know how much time had passed since he had come to this place. His memories were as distant to him as the blue and white mountains stretching in the distance.

According to his teacher, he was called Jon Snow, a bastard of the North and formerly a man of the Night’s Watch. They would kill him for deserting or at least that is what Bloodraven told him whenever he prodded him for more information about his past.

_I must have had a father and a mother. Everyone has. I can’t be just a nameless bastard._

Thus, he had continued to live for years, though how long it had been was difficult to tell. Jon thought it must have been at least two years, but the days were short in these lands and the nights never-ending.

Be it wild animals or the Others, as Bloodraven called their enemy, there was always danger lurking behind every corner.

This too, Jon had gotten used to. The cold no longer frightened him, though he had lost two toes to the frost and nearly his right ear, but he knew now how to keep himself warm and read the signs of a coming storm.

Hunting also came easily to him by now, though it had more to do with his ability to slip into the mind of almost any living creature he could find. He mostly used crows or wolves, but sometimes he also slipped into the minds of bears or shadow cats.

It was a marvelous gift, but also dangerous.

_Never linger too long in the mind of another being, my boy._

Jon had learned this lesson too, but sometimes it was too tempting to linger in the mind of a strong bear or a bird soaring over the highest of trees.

It was so much better than to walk on two legs.

Today was such a day.

Jon was soaring over a patch of wood, his black wings spread wide. He felt no cold or fear, his eyes searching for a game that would feed him over the next moon.

Today it was a young stag, its fur white, except for its golden antlers and crimson eyes.

The sky grew only darker, as he dipped lower, closer to the tree crowns to follow at the stag’s heels.

The animal seemed unbothered by his presence and he would have to act quickly.

Closing his eyes, Jon allowed himself to slip back into his old skin.

When he opened his eyes again, he found his body frozen to the bones, though he had covered himself with a thick fur cloak and had taken shelter beneath large Ironwood tree.

It was a familiar routine, as he warmed himself. When he was done, she slipped his bearskin free and took a swag from the disgusting brew he always carried with himself. It was elk milk, cool and greasy, but a good way to regain his strength.

When some warmth had finally returned to his frozen body, he grabbed his bow and arrows and climbed back into the saddle of his mount. It was a young elk, a gift of the Children.

_There is no more noble mount_ , Leaf had claimed. _And no more loyal friend._

Ever since that day, Jon had called _Snow_ his own and he had indeed proven more than a loyal mount.

Just a soft nod and his mount moved into the right direction, towards the patch of wood he had scouted earlier through the eyes of a crow.

The sky was pitch black by the time he reached the first trees, most of them firs and ironwoods and as ancient as the Wall.

The whispering of the wind accompanied him at every step. It was a familiar song, almost, like lullaby.

It made him wonder if his mother had sung him lullabies. He couldn’t remember her name nor her face.

It was an ever-present pain.

It didn’t take long before he found the trail of the Stag. Its leavings were littered beside the footsteps it had left in the snow.

It was the rustling in the underwood that alarmed him of the Stag’s presence.

Truly, the animal was even more beautiful to behold with his one whole eye.

It was taller than he had expected, its furs pale like the bark of a weirwood tree and its eyes red like two bright rubies.

As he was nearing himself at a slow pace, he could admire the animal, yet no matter how beautiful it was, he knew that he had need of a proper meal.

The Children may be able to live on their pine mush, but Jon had need of meat to keep up his strength.

The animal was nibbling on a piece of foliage, as he put the first arrow into his bow and closed his eye. concentrating on the task that lay ahead of him.

It took only the matter of a heartbeat, before he managed to slip into the Stag’s mind.

It was a peaceful mind, unbothered by the danger that was lurking in the shadows.

Yet, the hardest part was always to slip back to shoot the arrow.

It was only a brief moment, in which Jon allowed his hold over the stag slip away and which caused his victim sheer distress.

He could feel its fear and when the arrow struck home he felt the pain too.

It was a sharp pain that pierced his chest and made him collapse in pain , even when he had already slipped back into his old skin.

It took him a moment, before he managed to pull himself back to his feet and could make his way to the dying animal.

The arrow had lodged itself deep into the animal’s heart, blood steaming as it touched the snow.

Jon didn’t waste any time and slipped another arrow in his bow to give the poor thing the death blow.

One more arrow was needed before it closed its eyes forever and Jon could finally go back to work.

Nightfall had come, when he had finished cutting apart the animal from head to toe.

He was about to make a fire, when he spotted a mounted rider, a black cloak flowing from his back.

It was Bloodraven’s servant.

He always came and went at his master’s pleasure, but he was always there when Jon had need of him.

“I am to lead you back to the cave,” the man said in a rattling and emotionless voice, as he slipped from his saddle.

“Is the enemy close?” Jon asked as he was leading his mouth home. “Is that why you came?”

“Bloodraven has need of you,” the man replied and lead the way. He never spoke much, but he could always be relied on.

It took them another day to reach the entrance to the never-ending tunnels that would lead him back to Bloodraven’s lair and another one to cross through the numerous tunnels.

Half the way, Leaf and some of her companions met him and offered him food. Mostly, nuts and pine mush.

Jon wished he could make a fire to roast the meat, but the Children wouldn’t like it and thus he decided to wait until they reached Bloodraven’s cave.

As he continued to move through the dark tunnels more Children appeared. Most of them truly looked like children, small scrawny things, ragged and wild, wearing dappled brown rags with twigs and bright flowers woven into their hair. They usually spoke in their own tongue, but whenever Jon was close they slipped back into the _Common Tongue_.

“How far do these tunnels lead?” Jon asked Leaf not for the first time.

“Our ancestors knew,” she answered as always and moved on. “We have forgotten much. The weirwoods are our memory.”

Jon had learned so much, but had never beheld such visions himself.

_Only greenseers have this ability_ , Bloodraven had told him. _But you are no greenseer, my boy, though you are of their blood._

Jon had accepted this answer, just as he had accepted every lesson that had been given to him. Still, his mind was always straying, this mind that was filled with history and war, but no memory of his kin and family.

“What does Bloodraven want from me?” Jon asked.

“Blood,” Leaf answered and leaned on her staff. “But there is more. He will tell you himself.”

For Jon it meant that he would have to cut himself to feed Bloodraven, but then that was one of the few things he could do to repay him for saving his life.

“Then, let us go,” he replied, though their pace remained slow. He had to watch his footing at this part of the journey.

It was dark and the path was treacherous, but Jon had crossed this part a good-hundred times in the last two years.

By now, he was as sure-footed as Leaf.

He knew that he had reached the next room when he heard the crunching sound of bones beneath his feet.

From here it was only a short distance before they reached the center of the tunnel, where thick roots of the great weirwood came together.

To bridge the last part, he was forced to descend into an abyss of darkness, where the roar of a river and waterfall reached his ears.

The natural bridge crossing over to Bloodraven’s weirwood throne made the rest of the path almost easy.

Bloodraven, a half-corpse and half-man, opened his one crimson eye when he noticed his approach.

“You have returned.”

“I have returned,” Jon confirmed and slipped his dagger free. “I heard you have need of me, my Lord.”

“I am fading away,” he replied, his voice slow and dry, as if he had long forgotten how to speak. “Your blood is only preventing the inevitable.”

Jon said nothing to that and simply cut open his arm. He made a fist and allowed the blood to dribble into the bowl that Leaf was holding beneath his arm.

When he was done, one of the other Children wrapped a clean cloth around his hand and gave him a wooden cup filled with a bitter brew he knew well. It was meant to speed up the healing.

All the while, Leaf was feeding Bloodraven with the bloody paste they had made from Jon’s blood.

Slowly, the old lord swallowed and Jon had fallen half asleep when Leaf nudged him gently to rouse him from his slumber.

“You have my thanks, my boy,” Bloodraven said, his glowing red eye fixed on Jon. “But this will be the last time I have need of you. My loyal servant shall lead you to your next task.”

Jon was stunned by this revelation. He had always known that Bloodraven was training him for a specific purpose, but he hadn’t expected that the day of departure was so close.

“My next task?”

“You will see,” Bloodraven said cryptically. “And understand when you reach them. All of it is connected to our old enemy: the Others.”

“That is not enough,” Jon demanded. “At least, tell me who I am going to meet.”

“I cannot, but my loyal servant will lead you there,” Bloodraven insisted. “But I shall give you a gift and a promise.”

“A gift?” Jon asked and noticed that Leaf was carrying something in her slender hands. “What gift could you have for me?”

“See for yourself, my boy. See for yourself.”

“Here,” Leaf said and presented her gift to him. “It is yours.”

It was a sword, so much Jon could tell by its shape.

Carefully, he freed the blade from its scabbard and eyed it closely in the sparse moonlight that was streaming through the opening in the cave above.

A faded gemstone was embedded in its pommel and the blade was made of dark and smoky pattern.

_It is Valyrian Steel_ , Jon knew at once, though how he knew this was a mystery to him.

“Does this sword have a name?”

Bloodraven smiled. It was the first smile he had ever seen on the old man’s wrinkled lips.

“Dark Sister.”

Jon sucked in a deep breath..

He knew this name too, but it was supposed to be lost and forgotten.

“So, you are truly the Bloodraven from the tales?”

“I was a good many things, my boy, but now I am the living memory of the weirwoods. I trained you for the true war, against an enemy older than the Wall itself. The Others are powerful beyond your imagination and the only way to defeat them is through fire magic.”

“Fire magic?” Jon asked. “What does that mean?”

“Dragons. Dragons are fire made flesh. They are the only way to defeat them.”

“But there are no dragons left in the world.”

“There are still eggs,” Bloodraven explained. “Leaf.”

Leaf waved her hand at one of her companions, who carried another gift. Jon didn’t believe his eyes when he laid eyes on the pale egg covered with blue veins.

“It is yours,” Bloodraven declared. “And the time will come when you must wake it from its slumber.”

“But how?” Jon asked. “I am no dragonlord.”

“You will find a way,” Bloodraven insisted. “And I shall guide you as long as my strength allows it.”

“But how will you survive without my blood?” Jon asked in confusion. He was suddenly afraid of leaving. “You are already half-dead.”

“Your blood has given me enough strength to last,” Bloodraven assured him. “I have seen it. Now go. My loyal servant is waiting for you.”

…


	2. Rhaenys

**Rhaenys**

Rhaenys smiled when she noticed how Garlan’s little girl was squeezing the garment between her small fingers. Alyssa Tyrell was four namedays old, dainty and golden-haired like her father.

Her mother Lady Leonette Fassoway had also been a great beauty with a love for riding. Sadly, it had been this love for the riding sport that had cost her life scarcely a year ago. She had challenged her husband’s squire for a race along the Mander and had broken her back before perishing two days later. Ever since that day, Garlan hadn’t been the same and there was a perpetual sense of melancholy hanging over Highgarden.

“Do you like it, little one?” Rhaenys asked the little girl. “I am still torn on whether I want to wear it on my brother’s wedding. I think it is a bit too much.”

“It is red and pretty,” the little girl chirped and bared her toothy grin. “A Princess needs to wear pretty things. Mama, always said so.”

“Your mother was a _wise_ woman,” Margaery said softly and picked up her little niece. “But not only Princesses must lock proper. The same goes for ladies. You will have to put on your proper dress for this occasion.”

The little girl giggled, as Margaery placed her niece back into her nursemaid’s arms.

“Here you go, Martha!” she instructed the nursemaid. “This one needs a proper bath and her hair cut.”

“Of course,” Lady Martha said. “Will you inspect my work later, my Lady?”

“Of course,” Margaery replied and sat back down in her armchair. “Call me later.”

When the nursemaid had left, Margaery blew her golden locks out of her face and shifted her attention back to Rhaenys.

“This one will be a handful,” she complained and placed her hand on her swollen stomach. She had been wed a year ago and was already carrying her first child, a fact that pleased both Lord Mace Tyrell and Lord Tywin Lannister, but made Rhaenys’ life only harder. “And if it is anything like Joff, I am not going to have a peaceful moment for the next sixteen years.”

Rhaenys and Willas had been wed for almost five years and despite Maester Yorik’s numerous fertility treatments, she had yet to conceive. At times, just wanted to forget about her _duties_ , but the loss of Garlan’s wife had been a hard blow for everyone.

“I would love to have my hands full,” Rhaenys replied politely and graced Margaery with a smile. “I terribly bored and glad to leave Highgarden, even if it will only be for a short time. It will also be good to see my brothers again. I haven’t seen them in nearly a year.”

“I heard Prince Gaemon has become an excellent horsemen and earned his knighthood,” Margaery replied and leaned over to pick a date from the bowl placed on the table beside her. Her ladies Lady Elinor Tyrell and Lady Desmera were seated on the fluffy rug and were playing with Rhaenys’ cat, a fat black tomcat she had called _Balerion the Second_. It had been a nameday gift from Aegon when he had visited the Reach in company of his bride more than a year ago. There had also been a tourney, but this time Aegon had been unhorsed in the final tilt by Ser Loras Tyrell and was now serving in the Kingsguard. He was there, lingering in the anteroom in company of Joff, the Redwyne twins and Harry.

“So I have heard,” Rhaenys replied and rose to her feet to hand the garment to one of her handmaids. “Put it to my other clothes and also pack the hairnet with the rubies. I shall wear them on my brother’s wedding.”

“Of course, my lady,” her handmaid replied and left to attend to her task.

“The dress is very beautiful _indeed._ I can understand why you want to wear it for your brother’s wedding,” Lady Desmera Redwyne noted, as she placed her plump bottom on the cushioned handle of the armchair. She was younger than Rhaenys and had inherited her mother’s generous bosom. The young lords of the Reach, especially Theon Greyjoy, were chasing after her like a horde of lusty bulls. Yet, the girl didn’t seem at all bothered by the attention and was often seen in company of the Greyjoy heir. What Lord Redwyne thought of this was a mystery to Rhaenys, but she doubted he would approve of his daughter’s conduct. Even so, Rhaenys decided it was not her business. She had dared once to make a comment on the matter, albeit in a polite manner and had been told to attend to her own _duties_.

 _Her duties_. Rhaenys had wanted to pull out these girl’s hairs to make clear to her that she was trying harder than anyone. Yet, the more she tried the more hopeless it seemed and at times had no joy in seeking out her husband’s bed anymore now that her mind was constantly occupied with bearing a child. Even Willas, who was always optimistic, had become more hesitant.

“It is Dornish fashion,” Lady Margaery said. “But then you and your brother are half-Dornish. I suppose it is fitting.”

“It belonged to my mother,” Rhaenys replied, suppressing the biting comment that lingered on the tip of her tongue. “That is why I want to wear it.”

“Oh!” Margaery said and blushed even a little. “Well, I shall go in crimson and gold, Lannister colors galore. Joff will be pleased, but it is sad that you won’t be able to showcase your dress to Willas.

It was true, but Rhaenys wouldn’t allow Willas absence dim her happiness of going home. It was understandable, for his leg had aching him due to the constant autumn chill. He needed rest, though she wondered at times how bad it would become once winter came.

“I will make sure to wear it for Willas,” she told Margaery and smiled. “Speaking of your brother, I should attend to him.”

Lady Elinor chuckled.

“Lord Willas must be very occupied with his accounts.”

“In fact, he has been occupied with his leg,” Rhaenys replied politely and left the ladies to themselves. She liked them, but she was glad to leave. While the relationships between the Martells and the Targaryens was still tense, she was sure that her cousin Arianne would be there to see Aegon wed.

To her displeasure, she found Willas seated at his work desk, dressed only in a white tunic and breeches. He smiled warmly, as he noticed her presence.

“Rhaenys, love,” he said and put away his papers. “Are you done with your packing?”

“I am done,” Rhaenys confirmed and brushed his golden locks out of his face. “I was keeping your sister company. She looks like she is ready to give birth at any moment. I am surprised she is going to attend the wedding at all.”

“That would be far too early,” Willas observed and brushed his hand over her shoulder. “But I agree with you. I would prefer for her to stay here, but Joff insists upon it and I have already enough pain to deal with.”

Rhaenys chuckled and leaned down to place a kiss on his lips, but refrained from climbing into his lap. She didn’t want to increase his pain.

“Don’t fret about Marge,” Rhaenys told him at last and squeezed his hand. “I shall take good care of her and our proud good brother will be able to amuse himself at the tilt. I hope Aegon or Loras unhorse him. He thinks he owns the world since he won his sister’s last nameday tourney. At least, Gaemon told me so in his letters.”

Willas laughed and pulled his arm around her waist to keep her in place. “That is a sight I crave to see, but then it would be only fitting for your brother to name his bride Queen of Love and Beauty, though surely there is no one prettier than you. No offence to Lady Shireen.”

“Soon Princess Shireen,” Rhaenys reminded Willas and brushed his hand away. “And you know what the Maester said. You shouldn’t move your leg too much.”

Yet, Willas didn’t want to let go of her. “Yet, he also left his tea here for you. Do not forget about it.”

The mention of the tea soured her mood.

“I won’t forget,” Rhaenys said and slipped free from his grasp. “I would _never_ forget about it.”

Willas must have noticed the displeasure in her voice and called after her.

“I didn’t mean…,” he began, his voice filled with guilt.

“I know you didn’t mean to,” Rhaenys replied and exhaled deeply, as she turned around and knelt beside him, placing her head in his lap. “And I rather not speak about it. It is just…feel like such a disappointment.”

“All will be well,” Willas told her softly and brushed his hand through her hair. “It just takes time.”

Rhaenys doubted it, a question burning on the tip of her tongue.

“What if it will never happen?”

Rhaenys lifted her gaze, her dark eyes searching Willas’ face.

She wanted him to say that it didn’t matter, but that would be a lie.

She still wanted to hear it from his lips.

“My father would be displeased,” Willas said at last and reached for her hand, but Rhaenys pulled away. She didn’t care what Mace Tyrell thought. It only counted to her what Willas thought.

“What about you?”

Willas said nothing for a long time before he brushed his hands over his face.

Then, he sucked in a deep breath and looked away.

“You have been rather sickly in the last moons. Perhaps it will be good for you to go to King’s Landing.”

Rhaenys gritted her teeth. She had been sick indeed, but that was no surprise. Everyone would be sick if he was forced to consume these teas and if one was being watched daily like a mare. Her strained nerves didn’t allow for a restful sleep.

“I shall go, then,” she told Willas and bit her lips. “The sooner the better.”

It was truly a relief when they sat out on the next morning.

And because it was such a beautiful autumn day, Rhaenys even refused to travel in the wheelhouse, but saddled her horse and rode beside Ser Garlan Tyrell, Ser Loras Tyrell, the Redwyne Twins, Harry, and Joff. It was a queer feeling to be the only women among these knightly men, but they were fine company and none of them complained about her presence.

On the contrary, Garlan lightened up when she was in his presence and spoke with her about sweet nothings.

Yet, it didn’t take long before he brought up his brother. He always knew when something was brewing, for Willas and Garlan had rarely any secrets from each other.

“My brother worries about you,” Garlan remarked. “And I have to agree with him. You have grown thinner.”

Rhaenys good mood faded instantly, but she tried to be polite. She knew he meant well.

“Did he tell you about our fight?” she asked straight to the point.

Garlan chuckled. “Willas tells me everything. He is my brother.”

“My brother Egg doesn’t tell me everything, but I understand what you are trying to say. Still, I would prefer if Willas didn’t tell you. It isn’t your business.”

“It is not, but I worry about you as well,” Garlan added. “I consider you my sister. My wife was also very fond of you and she would have been pleased to see that Alyssa is well cared for. She can be such a difficult child. At times, I think it would have been better if she had been born a boy.”

“Perhaps,” Rhaenys agreed, her heart softening when she saw how sad he looked. “It would certainly make our situation easier.”

“Indeed,” Garlan said and lowered his voice. “And that is also the reason you should show more understanding for Willas. He is a good lord, but also a cripple. Father is putting a lot of pressure on him and fears he might disinherit him one day. My father even tried to convince Loras to leave the Kingsguard.”

Rhaenys gasped. She hadn’t known that.

“The King would never agree.”

“Which is why Loras refused. He has no intention to play the spare heir. Do you know what my little brother told our father?”

Rhaenys looked around to make sure that nobody was listening.

“What did he tell him?”

Garlan half-smiled, as he whispered his answer. “He told our father that the Reach could do worse than to be ruled by a Lady.”

Rhaenys burst out in laughter, as she tried to imagine Mace Tyrell’s flushed face.

“I am sure Alyssa would like that,” Rhaenys added and continued to laugh. “She would abolish all dresses and have us play all day.”

“Could be worse,” Garlan replied. “And it is even better to see you smile.”

With these comforting words in mind, they moved on to King’s Landing.

All in all, it took them six days. Six days of alabaster skies and a landscape of gold, red and orange. They say that spring was the most beautiful of seasons, but Rhaenys couldn’t help but to disagree with this notion.

Autumn was the most beautiful of all seasons.

Yet, her opinion changed when they had their first taste of autumn rains. For hours it poured and even Rhaenys retreated to the wheelhouse.

It was a great relief when they finally reached King’s Landing, though the sky was also here covered with thick black clouds and the rain never ceased.

By the time, they reached the Red Keep, Rhaenys was soaked from head to toe.

Still, it felt as if a heavy burden had been lifted from her shoulders, as she rode through the familiar gates and a beloved voice reached her ears.

“Rhae!” Egg exclaimed, his warm breath tickling her cheek as he whirled her around. “Oh, it is wonderful to see you!”

Egg was beaming, his hair much longer than she recalled.

Rhaenys kissed his cheeks and grinned. “It is wonderful to see you, brother. You look so different.”

“Now you are lying,” Egg chided her and waved his hand at Gaemon, whom she didn’t recognize at once. Now, at age ten and four, his features had sharped and it was clear that he had after all inherited some of the Stark features. “I have hardly changed. My hair is just longer. Shireen prefers it that way.”

“That is good to hear,” Rhaenys said and was indeed pleased to hear that her brother was so mindful of his bride’s wishes. “And now let me take a look at my other brother.”

Gaemon smiled and wrapped his arms around her.

“I have missed you, sister. I hope you received my letters.”

“All of them,” Rhaenys confirmed and kissed his cheek. Then, she brushed her hands over his cheeks and forced him to look at her. “You have grown even more…you are almost a man grown.”

“I am still growing,” Gaemon replied and smiled. It was no real smile, but then he had never been completely the same since their brother Aemon had disappeared beyond the Wall. “But you are as pretty as ever, Rhae.”

“Don’t let your bride hear that,” Rhaenys chided him and shifted her attention back to Egg. He was occupied greeting his old friends, especially Harry and Loras, who were quickly escorted inside with the promise of a cup of wine.

“I should go,” Gaemon said. “Or Joff will be displeased.”

“Don’t fret,” Rhaenys agreed and squeezed his shoulder. “I also need to attend to my ladies and take care of Marge. We shall see each other later.”

“We shall,” Gaemon promised and left.

Rhaenys kept her promise and was quick to attend to Lady Margaery, who needed both Rhaenys’ and Lady Desmera’s help to climb out of the carriage.

She was smiling, though her husband had hardly looked at her throughout their journey.

As expected, they were settled in the Maidenvault with all the luxury King’s Landing could offer. The only downside was the rain.

 _A wedding shouldn’t have rain_ , Rhaenys thought as she watched the world outside through the blurred class. _But there is still time._

There was still enough time.

“How does it feel to be back, Rhae?” a soft voice snapped her back to the present.

Rhaenys knew who it was before she had turned around, but she was still pleasantly surprised to find her Aunt smiling at her.

Yet, her Aunt wasn’t alone. Her little boy Jacaerys was also there, watching Rhaenys quietly, but with a hint of curiosity in his strange eyes.

“Dany,” Rhaenys said and kissed Dany’s cheek, as she took in her changed appearance. “I thought you would still be at Summerhall.”

“I have been here for a while,” Dany said. She had grown half a head since Rhaenys had last laid eyes on her, her long silver hair nearly reaching to her waist. Her dress was also different from the colorful garments she had worn in her youth. It was made of a pale blue color and cut in the Dornish fashion.

“And you brought my _favorite_ nephew,” Rhaenys said and smiled at the boy she hadn’t seen since he was a little babe. At first glance, he didn’t look much like Aemon. He had a mob of silver hair atop his head and his soft features came from Dany, but his quiet nature was all Aemon.

“Who is that?” the boy asked quietly and looked up at Dany.

Rhaenys felt embarrassment washing over her.

“Of course, wouldn’t remember me,” she said and waved her hand at the canopy. “I am your Aunt Rhaenys, Egg’s sister.”

“Aunt,” the boy mumbled and eyed her both with mistrust and curiosity. “You don’t look like him.”

“It is true,” Rhaenys confirmed knelt down before him. The boy was rather observant, but also a little strange. “I do not look much like Egg, but am I still your kin. Dany told me much about you. She said you like sweets?”

The boy’s eyes lightened up with sudden excitement, a ghost of a smile crossing his plump lips.

“You have sweets?”

“I could call for the servants and they might bring us some if I ask them,” Rhaenys offered and looked up at Dany. She couldn’t bribe her son without asking for her permission. “What do you think, Dany? Shall we have tea and sweets?”

Jacaerys gave his mother a hopeful look, his small fingers pulling on her skirt.

Dany sighed deeply. “Very well, we shall have sweets and tea.”

Jacaerys smiled and was quick to sit down on the canopy while Rhaenys called for the servants, who brought them tea and small cakes made from sugar and vanilla.

“Not more than three,” Dany told Jacaerys, his feet twitching with excitement as received his cakes.

Surprisingly, he obeyed and when he was done eating he asked for cup of milk.

Not long after, Dany called for Lady Jeyne Westerland, who escorted the boy back to his chambers and to give Dany and Rhaenys the chance to speak in private.

“He is a very quiet child,” Rhaenys remarked when they had left. “But it seems all children are the same when it comes to sweets. Forgive me, for trying to bribe him. Still, you are very lucky to have such a sweet boy.”

“He is rather quiet,” Dany said and dropped her gaze to the rug, her voice growing softer and more vulnerable. “But at times I would prefer if he were not. You know why.”

 _It reminds you of Aemon_ , Rhaenys knew, but kept these thoughts to herself.

“Well, you must be the only mother in the world wishing for a lively child,” she jested. “Most servants in Highgarden wish for my niece to be a little less lively.”

“Perhaps,” Dany said and lifted her violet gaze. “Speaking of our family, there will be a melee competition to celebrate your nameday, so please appear surprised.”

Rhaenys laughed. “I don’t think you should have told me that, but I am thankful.”

“Of course I told you,” Daenerys said and leaned closer. “I know how much you dislike surprises.”

“Well, it is rather _unseemly_ ,” Rhaenys said. “Especially, so close to the wedding.”

“There will be no tourney for the wedding,” Dany explained. “It would be too dangerous for the riders and my brother can’t scarcely delay the wedding. It is all planned out. Well, Lady Shireen thought it a good idea to hold a small melee competition to celebrate her upcoming wedding and your nameday _together_.”

“It is still _unseemly_ ,” Rhaenys said and shook her head. “I must speak to my brother at once…” she trailed off.

Rhaenys was just about to rise to her feet, but Dany grabbed her arm to hold her back.

“You shouldn’t do that, Rhae. As I said before, it was Lady Shireen’s idea. I thinks she wants to win your favor.”

Rhaenys sat down in confusion. “My favor?”

“Isn’t that such a surprise to you?” Dany asked. “She knows how much Aegon values you. I know you don’t like melees, but be kind to her. She is trying her best to fulfill her mother’s expectations.”

“As do we all,” Rhaenys replied in understanding. “Very well, I shall smile and pretend I didn’t know of anything.”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be out somwhere next week or the weekend. This story is more complex to write so I need more time and I am also writing on my other stories.
> 
> Next: Aegon, but Dany will feature in the chapter as well as several other characters. It will basically be the melee competition and some other stuff.
> 
> And no: Rhaenys is not barren. It is quite clear what is wrong with her. She will get her justice.


	3. The Forgotten Prince

**The Forgotten Prince**

They left early in the morning when the first light could be seen on the distant horizon.

Jon wore a grey pelt over his clothing that had long grown too short, but some changes here and there had been enough to make it fit. The Children were not only wise, but also good craftsmen. The arrows they had made from the bark of the weirwood and his thick grey cloak made were not the only departure gift. There was also the egg, the rations consisting of nuts and in addition to the meat of the smoked of the stag he had killed a day ago.

Jon brushed his hand over the sharp tips of the arrows, as led his mount along the snow-swept trail. They were made from dragon glass, another substance, besides Valyrian Steel and the weirwood arrows, that could _supposedly_ harm the enemy.

A storm began to brew, as they continued their travel, but his guide didn’t made any attempt to rest.

He continued to lead him through the endless woods that littered the slopes of the Frostfang mountains.

It was close to sunset when they finally reached the Fist of the First Men, an old ruin made from slabs of rocks that could be found atop a hill.

They were covered by several layers of snow and there they decided to rest for a few hours before they moved on again.

Neither the moon nor the stars could be seen. It looked as if the world had fallen into perpetually darkness.

“I must leave you now,” his guide told him. “Your _destiny_ awaits.”

Jon accepted his answer with clenched teeth. He knew he would receive no further answer from Bloodraven’s servant.

All he could do was wait and bide his time.

Thus, Jon wrapped his thick fur cloak around his shoulders and freed his blade.

Learning how to use the blade had proven hard after he had lost his eye, but Bloodraven hadn’t allowed him to be idle. Leaf had trained him every day, despite his problems.

_If you cannot use your eye, you must use your ears. It is easier than you might think._

And Jon had tried his best to learn, but he wasn’t sure if it would be enough to face the Others.

That an uncertain future lay ahead of him scared him only more.

Yet, it was probably the only way regain his memories.

As the storm continued to roar outside, Jon fell asleep and the strange dreams that were hunting his mind made him wake long before dawn.

The first thing he noticed when opening his eyes was the presence of other beings, humans, he deduced by their appearance.

Their skin was pale and they were much taller than the Children of the Forest.

He felt both excitement and apprehension, as he took in the woman that was leaning on her spear. She was nearly as tall as him, her face sharp as if chiseled from ice and her eyes a light grey color that reminded him of a peaceful winter’s lake. Her hair was fair and kept in a long braid that tumbled all the way down to her waist.

 **“** Who are you?” she asked mistrustfully. “And what are you doing in _our_ cave?”

It took him a moment to regain his wits.

“I wasn’t aware that caves can be _owned_?”

“They are our shelter against the cold,” said another, much younger girl. She was half a head shorter than the tall woman and her pale face was framed by thick blondish hair with a reddish streak. Her eyes were bright green and she smiled even as she spoke. “Are you a _crow_?”

“ _Crows_ wear black cloaks, daughter,” said the oldest of the four. He was tall and his beard had long turned grey, though his eyebrows still held a reddish streak. “And they usually don’t have such pretty teeth.”

“You really think so, father?” the girl asked her father. “He has only one eye…and look at his hair. It’s brown and white.”

“That’s the effect of spider venom for you,” the old man explained and chuckled, as if his daughter had just said something particularly funny.

Then, he eyed Jon more closely. “You met an ice spider, didn’t you, my boy?”

“I did,” Jon confirmed and touched his face. His eye was gone, but his appearance had been the last thing on his mind. He regularly shaved his beard, but allowed is hair to grow as it pleased. It was a good protection against the cold. “An Other attacked me and my companions three years, but I don’t recall anything about my life in the Night’s Watch.”

“Good for you, my boy,” said a tall and long-faced man. He was shouldering a massive axe and the left part of his face was covered with small scars. “And you must be lucky indeed if you were able to survive the encounter with an Other.”

“It is all true,” Jon insisted and was about to rise to his feet, but within the blink of a moment the tall woman had pointed her spear at his neck to keep him in place. Jon didn’t make another attempt to convince her. “But not without help. I was saved by a friend, a friend who _probably_ sent me here to find you. You are Wildlings, are you not?”

“Free Folk,” the tall woman corrected him. “Only _crows_ call us that.”

“Free Folk,” Jon corrected himself and forced a smile over his lips. Smiling, it was something he hadn’t done in a long time. “I shall remember it, but please…there is no reason for you to keep pointing your spear at my neck. I mean you no harm…In fact, I think I was meant to meet and help you.”

“Help _us_?” the tall woman asked in disbelief. “Your friend must be a fool then, for I cannot think of anything a _crow_ could do for _us_?”

“I haven’t been a man of the Night’s Watch in three long years,” Jon pointed out. “Most of my brothers _probably_ think me dead anyway.”

“A crow come over,” the old man grumbled and eyed him once more from head to toe. “Well, I think it is best if we take him to Mance. He will know what to do with him, don’t you think, Val?”

“A good idea, father, ” the girl with the reddish hair added. “We have gathered plenty of game and the storm will disperse soon enough.”

Hearing the girl speak about meat an idea entered his mind.

“I have something to add,” Jon said and pointed at his rations. “A peace offering.”

“Keep it to yourself!” Val threw back. “I don’t eat crow food. It might be poisoned.”

He couldn’t help but to laugh at the girl’s mistrustful demeanor. There was something familiar about her, as if they had met someone like her before.

“Here,” Jon said and went to retrieve a piece of meat. “Let me eat with you. I wouldn’t be stupid enough to poison myself, wouldn’t I?”

“The boy is right,” the old Wildling agreed and sat down in front of the dying fire. “But first we need to get this fire going. What kind of a meat is that, my boy?”

“Stag,” Jon replied and sighed in relief when the others finally sat down around the fire and rubbed their hands over the small flames. “By the way, I am Jon Snow. May I know your names?”

The old Wildling was quick to introduce everyone. “The grumpy girl beside me is Val, the beauty over there is my daughter Munda, the ugly man with the axe is Longspear Ryke and I am Tormund…Tormund’s Giantsbane. I am sure you have heard of me.”

“Must I?” Jon asked with a smile and stuck a piece of meat on a wooden stake. “Why is that?”

“Because he is a _bloody_ braggard,” said Val and sat down beside Munda, who readily accepted a piece of meat. Tormund didn’t need any further invitation and neither did Longspear Ryke. They spoke and ate without hesitation while Val continued to glare at him form the distance.

Jon ate little. He was too distracted by the fact that he was talking to humans again.

“Jon Snow,” Tormund asked after he had finished his meal and patted his round belly. “Who is _this_ friend you spoke of? Sounds like an interesting man.”

“I cannot tell you,” Jon replied hesitatingly. “But he implied to me that your people might be able to help me find out who I am.”

“What do you mean?” Val asked in obvious confusion. “You are Jon Snow, are you not?”

“Aye,” Jon confirmed and exhaled deeply. “That is all I know. That I am named Jon Snow and that I was a man of the Night’s Watch.”

“That is very sad,” Munda said. “But I do not think anyone of us can help you with your problem. I have never heard of you.”

“Me either,” Tormund said and grinned. “And I think I would have recalled an odd _crow_ like you.”

“What does it matter?” Val asked, her gaze softening a little. “He could be lying to us. As Tormund rightly said…Mance will know what to do with him.”

They departed at dawn. Jon rode on his mount while his companions walked on foot.

Not that it mattered. The strong snowfall made it impossible to move at a fast pace.

Even so, his travelling companions were cheerful. They sang and never grew tired. It felt as if they had been born to thrive in these harsh lands.

Jon had long learned to get used to the cold, but he could tell by his clattering teeth that he hadn’t been born in these lands, but in a warmer and far more distant land. _The South._

It would also explain his strange dreams of green lands and a castle of red walls.

It looked like a castle made for a King, the Kings whose tales he knew from his broken mind.

“You must keep moving, Munda,” Val told the younger girl. “Always keep moving.”

“My feet are hurting,” the girl complained and within the blink of a moment Tormund had pulled her unto his shoulders.

“I hope it is better now, little one?” he asked.

Munda chuckled and Val frowned.

“She could also ride with me?” Jon offered, but received only barking laughter in return.

“My little girl prefers this mount!” Tormund shouted, but to Jon it sounded almost like a whisper.

The storm was getting worse and as a consequence they were forced to seek shelter.

The two bent ironwood trees were only a beginning. Only after gathering countless of twigs and leaves did they manage to build a shelter against the storm.

Wrapped up in their furs it could be called almost cozy, though they could make no fire and Jon felt bad for _Snow_.

“So, Jon is a crow come over, isn’t he, father?” Munda asked, her voice only a whisper against the rumbling storm. “Does that mean he is like Mance?”

“Or he is just trying to fool us,” Val whispered. “We cannot trust him.”

Jon heard Tormund’s yawn. “Mance will know what to do with him, Val.”

With these last words his companions went back to sleep.

Jon rolled to the side and slipped in the mind of his mount. It often happened without his intention.

It was a rather unpleasant situation. The sharp wind was touching his skin and the taste of the leaves in his mouth was bitter.

Yet, besides the storm, the snow-swept landscape around him could be called almost idyllic.

Slowly, he stamped through the snow, searching for more food and noticed the presence of three squirrels.

One of them stopped and cocked its head before running off into the thick underwood.

Their familiar smell entered his nose, as he continued to stamp through the ever-rising waves of snow.

Fresh snowflakes were falling from the sky, but the wind was the worst. Icy and merciless, but Jon had gotten used to it by now and was calmly strutting along a fallen ironwood tree.

He tasted the leaves, bitter but nutritious. It was a good meal to fill his stomach, but something distracted him…

Jon couldn’t quite describe it, but the air had changed within the blink of a moment. It was no longer just ice, but there was a crispiness to it that made him gasp, white smoke rising from his nostrils like a ghostly shroud.

It felt as if someone or something was there, lurking in the darkness.

 _The enemy_ , he knew when he turned around saw dozen of corpses wandering through the swaying underwood. These were dead men, so much he could tell by their rotting skin and ragged clothing, their eyes blue stars in a sea of darkness. _The enemy has finally found me._

Jon sucked in a deep breath and slipped back in into his own skin.

When he woke he felt the cold. His body was frozen and it took him several heartbeats before he managed to find his sword in the darkness.

He also didn’t hesitate to wake his companions, shouting at the top of his lungs.

“Th Others are close! They are close!”

“Who…,” Val asked in confusion, but seemed to understand the implications well enough when she realized how cold it was.

“Damn!” Tormund cursed behind him. “Are you sure, my boy?”

“I saw them when I slipped into Snow’s mind,” Jon replied and slipped outside.

He gasped at the cold. It felt as if he had stepped into fire.

But there was no time the rest, for the enemy was already there.

The deadman’s shrieking voices filled his ears and a heartbeat later the first one was upon him.

Jon hadn’t seen the deadman, but he had heard and smelled him and had acted just as quickly, cutting it from head to toe, splitting it into two.

The head of the deadman tumbled into the snow and then the rest of the creature fell apart like a puppet without strings.

The next one, was harder to kill, but Jon managed to impale it after pressing the creature to the ground.

The snow made it hard to move, but he had not time to waste, for the _true enemy_ appeared moments later.

Jon felt its presence at once, as if they had been long lost friends, seeing each other again like many years of separation.

Yet, it was the first time he actually beheld one of _these_ otherworldly creatures.

It walked on thin legs, a pale sword of ice resting on its shoulder. Its silver hair was swaying gently as it moved and its eyes were bright and blue like frost.

It seems Jon was also the only who noticed its presence, for his companions were all fighting their own battles.

Val was standing atop a moving corpse, driving her spear deep into the shrieking creature while Munda had taken shelter on one of the trees, watching them fearfully as her father and Ryke were cutting down dead men left and right.

The Other looked at Jon and within the blink of a moment he was gone gain.

Jon gasped and began to move. He had the feeling that this was only the beginning.

Pure instinct was driving him and just as he had passed Val the Other appeared before him again, as if conjured from thin air.

Jon’s skin prickled, as he felt the Other’s breathe touching his skin.

The Other was so close, his deep blue eyes piercing into him, mocking him.

And he proved faster than lightening, as he slashed its blade towards him.

Jon rolled to the side, barely escaping the enemy’s blade.

It seemed that Leaf’s training had paid off, but the battle was far from over.

Quickly, Jon pulled himself back to his feet and grabbed his blade with both hands before whirling around to face his enemy once more.

Yet, within the blink of a moment, the Other was before him again, his blade striking fast and without mercy.

Jon stumbled to the side, for he hadn’t had enough time to measure his strike.

Yet, it was already too late.

Jon’s heart nearly jumped out of his breast when the enemy appeared beside him.

He lowered his head just in time to escape the Other’s blow to his head, but he also lost his balance and slipped down the slope, kissing the snow.

Jon clenched his teeth while reaching for his blade, but the enemy was upon him again.

The Other wrapped his icy fingers around his neck, smiling as he tightened he grip ever slowly…

Jon wheezed for air, the burning sensation around his neck driving him to desperate measures.

Bloodraven had always warned him against slipping into the mind of humans, but this step went even further…

It felt like crashing against a wall of ice, as he tried to get a hold of the Other’s mind.

He heard himself gasp, but he tried again, much harder and as a consequence even more painful.

It felt as if he was touching something evil, a long-buried anger hidden between layers of ice.

Yet, it was enough to lighten the enemy’s grip around his neck.

Jon knew it was his only chance and acted without wasting another thought.

Within the same breathe Jon picked up his sword and aimed at the Others’s neck.

To his _utter_ surprise the creature felt apart, as if it was made of nothing more than brittle ice.

What surprised Jon even more was that both the cold and the storm had fled with the Other and that the world had suddenly grown silent.

“What the _fuck_ was that?” he heard Val’s strained voice ringing behind him, but Jon had no time to answer.

He felt very dizzy and a heartbeat later he emptied his stomach unto the snow.

It was the price he had to pay for his victory.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a mistake last time: Aegon comes next.


	4. Aegon

**Aegon**

The weather was still horrid, but even so his wedding day was drawing ever closer. Aegon didn’t know what to feel, but he knew one thing: he was glad to have his family back together. Well, not his _entire_ family. Aemon and his grandmother were missing. One was most likely dead and the other sick.

Only his father’s and his sister’s arrival a week turn ago had helped to lift his spirit. Seeing Rhaenys again pleased him the most. He hadn’t seen her in nearly a year since he had last visited Highgarden in company of Ser Loras to celebrate his sister’s nameday.

Yet, despite all the happiness over the reunion with his sister Aegon couldn’t help, but to notice that Rhaenys looked very thin and that her dark hair lost its glow.

There was something wrong with her, but Aegon hadn’t dared to say something or Rhaenys might be upset. Rhaenys had never liked it when someone was dipping his nose into her business, though his dear sister was often prone in doing the same.

“Aegon,” Gaemon’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “Are you well?”

Aegon tried to hide his embarrassment behind a smile and finally found the clasp of his cloak. He touched the garment carefully, for it was made of the sleekest of silk, all shiny and decorated with small rubies that glittered like a thousand of stars.

“I am well,” Aegon said and took in his brother’s appearance. Gaemon wore grey-and-black finery and had gotten a new haircut after he had returned from Casterly Rock. He wore his hair now shortly-cropped to his head. “I was just thinking how it had been pouring for weeks and I doubt it is going to stop in the next days. Shireen will be displeased.”

Gaemon laughed and opened the door for him. In the antechamber he noticed Ser Gerold’s presence. “I didn’t think you are the kind of person who believes in such superstitions, Egg.”

“I am not,” Aegon said and patted his brother’s shoulder. “But some might think the gods are cursing our union.”

“Well,” Gaemon said and leaned closer to whisper into his ear. “I am sure there are those who are cursing your union, brother. The gods have nothing to do with it.”

Aegon chuckled. “You have a point there. Since when have you become so sharp?”

His brother said nothing. The old Gaemon would have laughed, but this was no longer his little brother, but nearly a man grown. The years had hardened him into a serious man like Aemon had been, though whenever he was with Lady Myrcella one could see a glimpse of the old Gaemon.

“I am not sharp,” Gaemon pointed said. “I was just pointing out the obvious.”

Due to the pouring rain it had been impossible to hold a tourney, but shortly after Shireen had brought up the idea of holding a melee competition and had even suggested to celebrate his sister’s nameday.

Aegon had been very pleased, but he was still wondering about Shireen’s motivation. Truth be told, his bride and his sister hardly knew each other, but it seems Shireen was hoping to win her as a friend, just as she had done with the other ladies at court and his Aunt Daenerys.

Aegon was even more pleased by that idea, which was the reason he was in a rather good mood, though the weather hadn’t changed.

The sky was still covered with black clouds and water was dripping from the battlements.

Otherwise, the place they had chosen was relatively dry and for a melee competition without horses only a battlefield was needed.

Aegon and Shireen had chosen the participants themselves: Ser Loras Tyrell, Ser Harry Hardygn, Ser Sandor Clegane who was fighting for Joff, as he was suffering from a bad chill, Ser Daemon Allyrion, Ser Garlan Tyrell, Ser Bree, an imposing knight in the service of House Tarth, Ser Andar Royce, proud Ser Lyn Corbray, Ser Jaime Lannister, Ser Jon Redfort, Lord Beric Dondarrion, Ser Mychel Redfort, his brother Gaemon, who had been knighted a year ago at a tourney at Casterly Rock and young Richard Lonmouth who had once served as Aemon’s squire and was also the youngest of the opponents.

It was an impressive number of participants and the price more than generous, but then it was also a celebration in honor of his sister’s nameday and his upcoming wedding. Even Lord Stannis, who held little love for such extravagancies had contributed a quarter of the sum and House Hightower another quarter while his father had contributed the rest.

As custom, his sister and bride were posing as maidens and had woven flowers into their hair. Shireen had chosen daisies that suited her golden dress with long sleeves and a flowing black skirt while his sister Rhaenys had chosen red fireflies, small flowers with colorful petals that reminded him of rubies. They suited her dark-red dress.

The other ladies were just as beautiful to look upon. Dany had chosen a violet dress that was decorated with small pearls and her long hair was held together by a single circle of silver. Otherwise, she wore no jewels or powder to accentuate her beauty, but that was not necessary. Yet, they paled in comparison to Gaemon’s bride, Lady Myrcella Lannister, who wore a golden-and-crimson dress that only added to her golden locks. Over the years, she had started to look more and more like her Lady Mother, Cersei Lannister, but unlike her mother, who had grown bitter in her widowhood, her daughter had become the true sun of the west, as many man at court referred to her. Only Lady Allyria Dayne, who was seated beside his Aunt, could hold a candle to her, but unlike Lady Myrcella, the younger sister of Lady Ashara Dayne didn’t care for her betrothed or her suitors. Truly, it must be hard for Jeyne Westerling, who was seated below his Aunt, to find herself amongst such beauty. There were many more such beautiful ladies: Lady Alerie Tyrell, Lady Ashara Dayne and Lady Lynesse Hightower, each with their husbands and of course his Uncle Viserys and his wife Lady Ysilla Royce, who held her daughter Princess Naerys in her lap. His little niece seemed very excited, her legs twitching nervously, as she held unto her mother’s arm, while Jacaerys was silent as ever, his odd eyes observing everything around him eagerly. At last, came his cousin, Princess Arianne and her husband Lord Renly Baratheon.

“Aegon!” Shireen said and slapped his shoulder. “Stop staring at the ladies. You are representing the King!”

It was true. He was representing his father yet again, though nobody was taking any offence with it. Most had already accepted that his father had made Aegon his co-regent.

“I am here,” Aegon assured Shireen and smiled, as the onlookers welcomed the participants with loud cheers.

Aegon could recognize Ser Jaime Lannister in his polished plate and white cloak. He had bet five-hundred gold dragons on Lord Tywin’s oldest son, as he was besides Ser Arthur Dayne, the most promising swordsmen of the Kingsguard. Ser Loras was another, but he was only a boy compared to Ser Jaime, whose skill had been honed through his years of service and daily practice.

 _My brother could have been among them_ , Aegon thought sadly and brushed these thoughts away before they could take hold of his thoughts. His wedding day was close. He had no time for sadness.

Again, the trumpets were sounded, ringing bright and loud, as Shireen held unto his arm. It didn’t bother him, but whenever his sister was close he wished it was her who was clinging unto his arm, yet he also knew that would never be, for his beloved sister didn’t desire him as much as he desired her.

He smiled and decided to focus on the spectacle in front of him.

Ser Jaime was easy to find, his beautiful blade with a ruby pommel glinting brightly, as he bashed it against Ser Redfort’s shield. The younger man could barely keep up with the young Lion’s pace, trying to parry the blows left and right, but always finding himself pushed backwards.

Only a heartbeat later, Ser Redfort found himself vanquished by a savage blow to the head, which made him stumble backwards.

This was enough to disqualify him.

As Aegon swept his gaze over the melee field, he noticed that two more opponents had been disqualified: Both Harry and Ser Andar were stumbling from the battlefield, one bleeding from his nose and the other walking rather strangely.

His brother Gaemon followed suit after he had lost his sword to Lyn Corbray, a tall and prideful man that owned a Valyrian blade of great beauty. _Lady Fornlorn._

“Gaemon and Richard held out longer than I thought,” Shireen jested beside him. “It is hard to compete against so many formidable opponents.”

“He held out long enough,” Aegon agreed and squeezed her arm. “He should be proud of himself! Aemon always kicked my ass at that age!”

Shireen chuckled and the battle continued.

Swords clashed and the clinking of steel rang loudly in his ears. Excitement filled his heart, as he saw how Ser Jaime and the Hound crossed their blades. _Joff’s dog_ , as many called him, was nearly a head taller than Lord Tywin’s golden-haired son, but he was as light-footed as dangerous. Left and right, up and down he parried the Hound’s savage blows.

Aegon could almost smell the sweat and the exhaustion that came with battle and wished he could partake, but had other duties to attend to.

The battle went on and on, the Hound swinging his blade and Ser Jaime parrying each blow in turn.

Back and forth, they danced around each other while the other opponents tended to their own battles.

Soon, their blades were kissing again before they parted rather abruptly and the opponents sprang apart.

Ser Jaime reacted faster than lightening, bringing forth his shield and his blade in the same motion, but the Hound was just as fast.

He lifted his shield in time to parry the blow and stepped to the side, rising his blade once more and attempting to bring it down on Ser Jaime’s left.

Ser Jaime in turn dropped his shield and grabbing his opponent’s arm.

They struggled. And while the Hound was stronger, Ser Jaime proved more agile and had somehow managed to wring the blade from his opponent’s hand.

This was another reason for disqualification and the Hound took it rather badly.

A grimace of anger showed on his face after he had pulled off his helmet and threw his battered shield on the ground.

“Joff is going to be angry,” Myrcella Lannister chuckled softly. “He had hoped to see the Hound win.”

Aegon was pleased by that. They had all hoped that Joff would change for the better once he got wed to Lady Margaery Tyrell, but the contrary had happened. He had grown only more arrogant and at times Aegon felt the need to bash his face. He had looked forward to seeing him fail, but sadly he had caught a cold and was now seated beside his wife Lady Margaery.

“It’s getting exciting,” Shireen whispered into his ear and jerked her head at the battlefield in front of them. “Only four opponents are left.”

It was true. Only Ser Jaime and Ser Lyn Corbray and the imposing knight Ser Bree and Ser Loras Tyrell were left.

It was hard to keep an eye on both parties. While Ser Jaime and Ser Lyn Corbray were still trading blows, Ser Bree took care of Ser Loras. The young man was a freshly-introduced member of the Kingsguard and an excellent swordsman, but nearly half a head shorter than Ser Bree, who was almost as tall as the Mountain. Luckily, that monster wasn’t partaking in the battle, for he had recently been exiled for raping a lady.

Ser Loras fast though, easily evading the tall knight’s blows. Aegon could almost hear their clenching teeth, as Ser Bree’s blade clashed against Ser Loras head. The boy stumbled backwards and landed on his ass.

He tried to pull himself back to his feet, but Ser Bree was quick to kick the blade out of his hand, thus disqualifying him from the competition.

By then, Ser Jaime had also defeated Ser Lyn Corbray, who sat on the sidelines, his face bleeding and his helmet dented. His former squire, Ser Mychel Redfort was tending to him.

Yet, Aegon’s attention was soon directed elsewhere, back to the last two opponents: Ser Jaime Lannister and Ser Bree.

The display of swordsmanship playing out before his eyes was impressive. The blades met at a quick pace, no opponent leaving room for the other.

Left and right the blades met, steel ringing against steel. Ser Jaime and Ser Bree were now pressing their bodies against each other, testing their strength with all their might.

Everyone was silent, as they were waiting for the winner to emerge victorious.

Aegon tightened his grip on the handle of his chair, as Ser Jaime received a savage blow to the shoulder, which caused him to falter momentarily.

And just as Ser Bree was about to lift his blade Ser Jaime, bashed his head against his opponent’s head.

Gasps could be heard from the crowd, as the knight fell backwards and hit the ground, dust rising into the sky.

Thus the battle was decided and Aegon’s champion emerged victorious.

Ser Jaime was smiling brazenly, as he waved his hand at the crowd, his golden hair sweaty and his white cloak blemished with dust.

The ladies cooed and Aegon rolled his eyes.

“Please, call _both_ of them here,” Shireen reminded him of his duties. “I want to behold the face of the knight from the Stormlands. Lord Tarth is often a guest in our home. I must know him.”

“As you wish,” Aegon said and told Ser Gerold to call Ser Jaime and this Ser Bree before him.

Ser Jaime wasn’t hesitant and knelt before Aegon, a smile playing on his lips, but Ser Bree was strangely hesitant.

He didn’t even pull off his head, as he knelt before Aegon and Shireen, the sound of his voice muffled through the visor of his helmet.

“I am thankful to behold your face, your Grace. Still, I do not understand why I am afforded such an honor. I lost.”

“You fought valiantly, good Ser,” Shireen praised the knight.

“You did,” Dany added. “You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Why not show your face to us, good Ser?” Lady Myrcella asked.

“Why not?” Ser Jaime asked jestingly. “Is your face that ugly to behold, good Ser?”

“That was not kind of you to say, Uncle,” Lady Myrcella chided Ser Jaime. “Not everyone is as beautiful as you. Even the ladies here are jealous of your beautiful hair. Can’t you see them glower with jealousy!”

Laughter and snickering could be heard.

“That is not the reason…,” Ser Bree replied hesitantly and fumbled with his helmet.

“Then, please show us your face, be it ugly or beautiful!” Shireen said cheerfully and clapped her hands together.

“Lady Shireen speaks true,” Rhaenys agreed in amusement. “And today is my nameday. Please let us behold your face.”

“As you wish,” the knight replied in a trembling voice and pulled off his helmet, to reveal a homely face, framed by a mob of blond hair and a pair of bright blue eyes. At the first glance, Aegon thought it was _indeed_ a young man, his pale skin blemished by countless freckles, but then he realized to his utter astonishment that the young man in front of him was actually a lady.

Gasps and whispering could be heard.

“A wench,” Ser Jaime said and stared dumbly. “A wench.”

“Brienne of Tarth,” Shireen said softly, a bright smile dancing on her lips, as she fisted her skirt.

“It is me, my Lady,” the blond-haired lady replied and dipped her head. “Brienne of Tarth. Forgive me for dishonoring your competition with my presence.”

“On the contrary!” Shireen exclaimed and beamed. “You were marvelous!”

Her clapping prodded the others to follow suit, though it was much more hesitant.

“I agree with Lady Shireen. It was a marvelous display,” Rhaenys said. “Don’t you agree, dear brother?”

“Indeed,” Daenerys said and clapped her hands together. “I have never seen a lady swing a sword so well. Ser Jaime nearly lost.”

“You should knight her!” Lady Myrcella declared, her voice laced with amusement.

It was out of the question, but Aegon admired the lady.

“Lady Myrcella speaks true, but sadly I cannot knight a lady. Still, is there something else you want, my lady?”

“I have an idea,” Shireen said beside him. “May I speak?”

Aegon was pleased to grant this wish to his bride. “Please.”

Shireen grinned from one ear to the other.

“What would you say if I asked you to become one of my ladies, Lady Brienne?”

Lady Brienne gave his bride a star-struck look.

“Me? I am not a lady…I am not good at lady-things.”

“You are a lady of House Tarth,” Shireen countered. “And I do not expect of you to wear dresses or stitch. I want you to be my sword. What do you say?”

Aegon saw tears shining in the lady’s eyes, as she dropped her head and accepted his bride’s request.

“I shall be honored to serve you, my Lady.”

“I heard Ser Jaime won your melee competition,” his father said later, as Aegon, Rhaenys and Dany had joined him to take their supper in his company. It was a simple meal accompanied by Dornish wine, though Rhaenys was the only one who was drinking tonight. “He truly is a marvelous swordsman.”

“He is,” Dany agreed and poked her food with her fork. “But he would have lost against Ser Arthur. Tell me, brother…Why is Lady Lyanna not attending Aegon’s wedding?”

His father tensed visibly at the mention of his wife. It had been three years that Aegon had last seen her and every year his father was travelling there to convince her to return, but as always she had refused, claiming that she could not leave until Aemon’s return.

“She refused,” his father replied and lifted his cup to his lips. “I wanted to bring Alysanne, but she refused as well. It seems she likes the North.”

“That is no reason,” Dany replied in obvious displeasure. “It is not like she has to stay in King’s Landing, but she could at least come to see her grandson. It has been three years.”

His father nodded his head in agreement and placed his cup back on the table. “I cannot force her. You know Lyanna. She is far too stubborn for her own good.”

“She is Queen,” Dany replied and dropped her fork. “Is she not?”

“Aye,” his father replied. “But she also suffered a great loss…,” he trailed off.

“We all suffered a great loss!” Dany snapped back and rose to her feet, her food still untouched. “I am not hungry and I need to attend to my son.”

His father opened his mouth at Dany’s outburst. “Of course, sister. Please attend to your son if you must.”

“Dany is just angry,” Rhaenys said to their father. “That is all.”

“Gaemon was also disappointed,” Aegon said solemnly. “Especially, Alysanne’s absence is gnawing at him. Perhaps it would be a good idea to travel to the North once the wedding is over.”

His father shook his head.

“You have your responsibilities to attend to, Aegon. Besides, I intend to travel North after the wedding….to pay a visit to the Wall.”

“Why did you not visit the Wall when you were in Winterfell?” Rhaenys asked.

“The storms were bad,” their father explained. “But my reason or travelling North lies elsewhere: I intend to visit your Grand-Uncle. He wrote to me regarding an important matter…the Wildlings have a new King.”

“Wildings have Kings?” Rhaenys asked in obvious surprise.

“They do,” Aegon added and smiled at Rhaenys. “They call themselves the King-Beyond-the-Wall and there have been several of them, most of whom tried to cross the Wall.”

Rhaenys paled and looked back at their father. “No wonder you want to travel North, father. This sounds _most_ terrifying. Will there be war?”

Their father grimaced and brushed his fingers over his gilded cup.

“I hope to avoid a war, but all his possible,” he said and forced a smile over his lips. “But enough of these _dark_ tidings. And while Lyanna and Alysanne will not join us for the wedding, your grandmother’s cold has finally abated and Marwyn told me she will soon be able to return to court. That will give you more time to attend to your bride.”

“Dany will be happy too,” Aegon said and smiled at the prospect of seeing his grandmother.

“Dany and grandmother are not on good terms,” Rhaenys said later after Aegon showed her the way back to her chambers. His sister had enjoyed a cup too much and was swaying, as she walked beside him. Her high shoes didn’t help either.

“Truly? Why is that?” he asked, his mind straying as he searched Rhaenys’ face.

“Grandmother tried to arrange a match between Harry and Dany,” Rhaenys explained, as he helped her towards her bed. There, she sat down and sighed deeply before she shifted her attention back to Aegon. “I am surprised Harry didn’t tell you about it.”

Aegon, who had been very distracted by Rhaenys’ presence, blinked in confusion.

“Harry and Dany?”

“Dany holds no interest in him,” Rhaenys continued to explain. “And ruined the match on purpose.”

“How?” Aegon asked curiously. “How did she accomplish it?”

“She took a lover or at least that is what grandmother thinks,” Rhaenys replied in a low voice. “But it isn’t quite true. It was a very clever mummery.”

Aegon smiled and sat down beside her.

“A mummery? Who?”

“Ser Aurane Waters,” Rhaenys said and rose back to her feet. She swayed, as she walked to the table and started to pick the numerous rubies from her hair. Aegon could only watch with great fascination, as her dark locks tumbled down her shoulders like a river of ink. “He _is_ …no, he _was_ in grandmother’s employ.”

“I know,” Aegon said. “But what do you mean with _was_? Does that mean grandmother _dismissed_ him?”

“She did,” Rhaenys replied and sat down at the table. “But Dany ignored her commands and made him her personal guard. Grandmother was _furious_ and ever since they refuse to talk.”

Aegon scratched his head.

“I was absolutely blind to that,” he admitted. “I hadn’t even noticed.”

“Well, now you know,” Rhaenys was about to add, but the knock at the door made her turn her head.

It was one of her handmaids, a tall and fair lady in a green dress.

Rhaenys smiled at her. “What is it, Rhea?”

“The tea, my lady,” the girl chirped and showed her the cup of steaming tea.

Rhaenys grimaced, but remained polite as ever. “Please leave it here, Rhea.”

When Rhea had left, Aegon rose to his feet and inspected the cup.

“What in the Seven’s name is that?” Aegon asked. “ _Poison_?”

Rhaenys chuckled sadly and lifted the cup to her nose. She wrinkled her nose and placed the cup back on the table.

“This tea is meant to _improve_ my fertility,” Rhaenys explained. “At least, that is what Maester Yorik believes. So far, his hard work has yet to bear any fruits.”

Aegon wasn’t surprised. “How could something so awful help to improve your health?”

Rhaenys sighed and brushed her hair out of her face. “I am not sick…and I have been drinking these teas for at least five years. It is no use anyway…I know that I am barren.”

Aegon had heard people at court whisper about it, but so far he hadn’t thought anything special about it. Sometimes, it took time to make children.

“You look really pale,” Aegon said. “And regarding your troubles…Have you thought of consulting Marwyn?”

Rhaenys shook her head.

“Marwyn is no specialist of childbearing and I am afraid,” Rhaenys replied in a trembling voice. ”I am afraid he might just confirm what I already know….that I cannot conceive. The only reason I am even drinking this tea is to keep up appearances. I am _useless_.”

Aegon said nothing for a long time. In the past, it had always been Rhaenys who had comforted him.

When he saw his sister’s tears, his tongue regain its function.

“This is _utter_ nonsense!” it burst out of him rather abruptly and he grabbed Rhaenys’ hand to press it to his lips. “You are not _useless_ …and Lord Mace Tyrell should feel honored that you are wed to his son. He has two heirs…he should be satisfied with that.”

Rhaenys chuckled sadly, which caused Aegon to lift his head to regard her tear-streaked face.

“Sadly, Lord Garlan is too grief-stricken over his wife’s loss to marry in the near future, which only leaves Lady Margaery, but I doubt Lord Mace Tyrell wants to have a Lannister rule over the Reach.”

Aegon knew she was right, but he didn’t enjoy seeing his sister suffer.

“I understand,” Aegon said and kissed her hand once. “But I disagree with you in this matter. There is more to women than the fruit of their womb.”

Rhaenys laughed and leaned closer, her dark hair spilling into her lovely face. Her smell was even lovelier. It was enough to speed up his heartbeat and he trembled slightly when she placed a kiss on his brow.

“You are sweet,” she said, salty tears falling unto Aegon’s face. “But bearing an heir is my _duty_ , just as it is your _duty_ to father a son.”

“I know,” Aegon whispered and acted up on his feelings rather than reason. He touched her shoulder to pull her closer. “But when I look at you, you are not a really a Princess, but just Rhaenys…my sister.”

Rhaenys said nothing, but Aegon felt how her body was trembling in his arms.

“You are silly,” Rhaenys said and leaned closer, her warm breathing brushing against his cheek. “But very sweet. And I was wrong…you are no longer a child, but a man grown…,” she trailed off and nuzzled his cheek.

Then, she exhaled deeply and kissed his cheek. It were butterfly kisses, but the sensation was so intense, it made him tremble from head to toe, heat pooling in his loins like a burning sword.

It should fill him with shame, but in that moment he felt only desire.

When Rhaenys moved lower to brush her lips over his, he felt as if someone had dropped stars into his lap.

“Rhae…,” Aegon whispered, but Rhaenys’ shut him up, her lips silencing him once more.

Aegon’s mind became weak and fluid, as his sister’s slender fingers brushed through his silver hair. When Rhaenys opened her sweet lips and brushed her tongue against his, all hesitance was forgotten.

Soon, he was kissing her hungrily and started to fumble at her clothing. First, her cloak fell away. Then, her dress. Aegon nearly tore the precious garment, revealing her small breasts to him.

He kissed them lightly and a small gasp left her lips. It was all the encouragement he needed to touch her between her legs. She was wet and soon she was fumbling with the bindings of his breeches, touching him gently, as he continued to do the same with her.

When Aegon filled her, he had to bite his lips to silence himself.

There was no hurry to their movements, all shame and guilt momentarily forgotten.

But it lasted only so long.

When they were done, Aegon felt lost, like a man that had tasted too much from the finest of wine, his head aching painfully.

“Rhae?” he asked his sister later, as she was pulling her dress back over her shoulders. He hesitated for a moment, but he needed to know the truth.

Now or never.

“Rhae!” he called out and Rhae finally turned around. She looked like their mother, but also a little bit like their father, especially she was smiling. “Do you love me?”

Rhae wrinkled her brows. He read pain in her grimace…and regret…

“You are my brother. Of course, I love you. What a silly question.”

Aegon had thought so much and sat up to pull the bedding around his naked waist.

“That is no proper answer.”

Rhae sucked in a deep breath and shook her head.

“That is the only answer I can give you.”

“Then, why?” Aegon asked and grabbed for her hand. “Why did you do it?”

Rhaenys bit her lips and rubbed her hand over her face.

“I don’t know…the wine, but I know this…we can never do it again.”

Aegon opened his mouth, but Rhae was already at the door and then she was gone.

And then came the shame.

And more confusion.

It was a true mess.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shireen and Aegon is endgame, but I want to write a different kind of relationship with them. It will be a more arranged marriage turned to love kind of thing than instant love. The thing is...Aegon has great respect for Shireen and likes her, but you cannot help but to want to fuck whom you want to fuck. That is hormons for you.
> 
> As for Rhaenys. She was at a real low point and drunk. I will explain her reasoning. It was partly spite and partly being moved by Aegon's words.
> 
> Call Aegon a horrible person, but then he never had a choice in who he marries. And it would have most likely been the same if Rhaegar never banged Lyanna, as there is not much of a gain from Rhaenys marrying Aegon. And Mace and one of the other lords would have always expected a reward for their loyalty, be it Aegon or Rhaenys. They could have never been together no matter the circumstances. That said...neither Elia nor Lyanna are fans of the brother-sister marriage thing.


	5. The Forgotten Prince

**The Forgotten Prince**

They departed at dawn . As before, he rode on his mount while his companions walked by foot.

By midday, they reached a frozen river. _The Milkwater_ , they called it. _Our guide home._

Jon didn’t question his travelling companions and followed suit, in hopes of finding himself.

Time passed and the storm grew stronger, but the moment they reached the thick forests they had been moving towards, the icy wind dispersed and the clouds parted, soft sunshine touching their cheeks.

It must be long past midday or at least that is what Jon deduced by the violet and reddish streaks on the distant horizon. Dusk was ever close and the light soon banished away by high tree crowns.

The ancient trees loomed over him like giants and even blended out the stars and the moon. They walked through the night, carrying torches and black daggers, those the Children had told him were made from frozen fire, yet unlike last time the enemy didn’t come for them that night.

Still, Jon was relieved when dawn returned with bright colors of orange and yellow. The rising sun reminded him of a boiled egg, fat and red, as they continued their track through the hilly landscape.

More snow came their way and the sun was sun was soon

The sun was gone within the blink of a moment, swathes of smoke rising into the sky.

“We are nearly there,” Munda told him cheerfully. “Can you see the cookfires?”

“Aye,” Jon replied in obvious realization. “I can see them.”

He felt foolish for not recognizing it sooner. Over the hilly landscape, patches of dark wood and the frozen river sprawled a large camp filled with thousands of people.

Riders came their way when they reached the outskirts of the camp, the horde of barking dogs accompanying the man seated on a hairy pony.

“Val,” he greeted and turned to Tormund. “And you, Giantsbane. Who is that?”

“A crow come over,” Val said. “At least that is what he told us.”

The man started to laugh hoarsely, his armor and head-covering made from bones, rattling whenever he moved.

“He doesn’t look like a crow? What’s with his hair?”

“Spider venom,” Tormund explained, white smoke rising into the air as he pulled down his shawl. “But enough of all this talking, Rattleshirt. Mance will know what to do with him.”

Rattleshirt chuckled and patted the head of one of his dogs. It was a massive beast with sharp fangs, but no danger to Jon. “Mance is going to enjoy this.”

“Probably,” Tormund laughed and lead the way, past the man with the rattling amor and his dogs. “But I am just craving the embrace of a woman and Dalla’s cooking.”

“Dalla hates it when you break your fast with us!” Val snapped. “You are always eating like a pig.”

“I am a man, not a fine lordling,” Tormund replied and brushed his hand over his shaggy beard. “Not everyone can be as esteemed in manners and character like our Mance.”

“Mance was born a bastard not a lordling,” Val threw back.

Along the way they were greeted by more and more people, some of them just exchanging pleasantries and others openly glaring at him. Especially, the children seemed fascinated by his mount and two nasty little shits threw snowballs at him.

At last, they reached a massive tent made from leather and hides. It was guarded by two tall men with long spears and painted shields. They smiled when they noticed Val and allowed them to enter, hot air touching his skin the moment the flaps of the tent opened.

The inside smelled of smoke and roasted meat. The first thing he noticed was a woman standing over a steaming pot and a man seated atop a heap of furs, a lute in hand.

The man couldn’t be older than thirty namedays and was of a slender build. His homely face was framed by brownish hair, streaked with silver and his dark eyes glittered with amusement, as he played for the babe in the crib beside him.

It was not hard to tell that the toddler swaddled in white fur belonged to the woman residing over the steaming pot. The babe had the same round cheeks and the same golden hair as his mother.

“Val,” the woman greeted Val happily and embraced her. “You are back!”

“And you brought visitors,” the man with the lute said and lifting his head to regard Jon more closely. “Who is that?”

“My name is Jon Snow,” he replied politely. “And you are Mance Ryder, aren’t you?”

“The King-Beyond-the-Wall,” Val added sarcastically. “I thought men from the south have manners and love their titles.”

“Jon Snow is a northern name,” Mance remarked and rose to his feet. “And I can see that you were touched by spider’s venom. Are you a crow come over?”

“I _was_ a man of the Night’s Watch,” Jon replied honestly. “But beyond my name I don’t know much about myself. I had hoped you might be able to help me. A friend of mine sent me here. He said we could help each other.”

“Well,” Mance said and smiled thinly. “You are either a very good liar or telling the truth. I have served the Night’s Watch for a long time, but I have never met a man by the name Jon Snow. The only thing I know is this: You must be the son of a lord of the North if you go by the name Snow.”

“I already know so much,” Jon replied in disappointment.

“Well, I think we should eat,” Dalla added softly and smiled at her guests. “You all look hungry.”

“I still have some meat left,” Jon offered. “Only if you can make use of it, my Lady.”

“My Lady,” Tormund snickered and received a frown from Dalla. “Oh, my _pretty_ Lady!”

“Shut up!” Dalla snapped hotly and smiled at Jon. “And don’t listen to Tormund. He is a man without manners. I am thankful for your offer. It am sure it is good meat.”

“You are too kind,” Jon replied politely and soon received a horn filled with ale and a bowl of soup Dalla had been cooking.

The soup was pleasantly hot and spiced with wild vegetables that stuck in his teeth, but it was also the best food he had in years.

It was so good that he consumed almost three cups of soup.

“You seem to like my woman’s cooking, Jon Snow,” Mance remarked, as Dalla offered them small pieces of roasted meat. “Were have you been living before? You don’t look as if you have left your brothers recently.”

“I think it were two or three years,” Jon replied and took a bite from the meat. It tasted different, hot and spicy. He took another bite and within the blink of a moment he had gobbled down half the meat.

Mance gave him a strange look. “Must have been years of miserable food, eh?”

Jon laughed and brushed his long hair out of his face. It was getting bothersome, as did his beard.

“Aye, I usually have lots of pine mush.”

“Sounds unpleasant,” Mance said and wrapped his arm around Dalla’s hip. “Well, not everyone has my luck to have a woman like Dalla. She can hunt as good as she can cook.”

A strange feeling overcame him in this moment. It felt like the stirring of an old memory, painful and sweet at once.

“You are _indeed_ lucky,” Jon told him and lifted the drinking horn to his lips. “And I am thankful that I wasn’t killed.”

“You offered us food,” Mance Ryder replied. “And you wear no black cloak. That alone is enough reason for me to treat you kindly, but that doesn’t mean I _trust_ you, boy.”

Jon couldn’t help but to notice the change in Mance’s voice. It was not hostile, but he could read the warnings behind his smile.

This was a man prepared to kill.

“I am have no interest in harming your people…,” Jon began and would have said more if their conversation hadn’t been interrupted.

All heads turned, as the three people staggered into the tent. It were two men, one tall and strong with a handsome face and dark hair and a shorter man with a balding head, but bronze armor and at last a girl with bright red hair and a pale face covered with hundreds of freckles.

The girl with the red hair stared at Jon with wide blue eyes.

“Fuck me, that’s the false crow!”

All heads turned to look at Jon in that moment, who felt as if his heart was about to jump out of his chest.

Did the girl know him?

It was the first time someone recognized him.

It filled him with a desperate longing, a longing he had locked deep in his heart.

“You know me?” he asked the girl with the bushy red hair and the pig nose.

The girl looked at him as if he was a fool.

“Of course, I know you,” she said and drew closer. “You are the princeling that saved my head. Don’t you remember?”

Suddenly, Mance Ryder was staring at him in a different kind of manner.

Jon read confusion and wonder.

“Are you sure _this_ is the missing dragon princeling, Ygritte?”

“I am sure,” Ygritte confirmed and bared her toothy grin. “That’s him, though he looks different. His eye is gone and his hair…must be the work of an ice spider.”

“Indeed,” Mance Ryder said and shifted his attention back to Jon. He took a swag from his drinking horn and narrowed his gaze. “And it seems your friend was right. I can help you: You are not Jon Snow, but Prince Aemon Targaryen, son of King Rhaegar Targaryen and his wife Queen Lyanna, a Lady of the North.”

Jon didn’t know what to say. It would certainly explain why he knew all these things about the Dragon Kings, but it didn’t explain why Bloodraven hadn’t simply told him about that.

But then Bloodraven had always liked to keep his secrets.

He couldn’t say, but the pounding of his head was real and he felt the sudden need to lie down and rest.

“Are you well, princeling?” Tormund asked. “You look pale around the nose.”

“Of course he is pale,” Dalla chided Tormund and smiled warmly at Jon. It was a mother’s smile, warm and cozy like the thick pelt of a bear. It also brought back old memories from his dreams: the long pale face of a woman with brown hair that nearly reached her ankles and a pair of grey eyes, slightly lighter than his. And a smile…a lovely smile.

Jon or Aemon gritted his teeth and grabbed his head, the pounding only intensifying, as the people’s voices blurred together.

“I would be thankful for a bit of peace and furs to keep me warm,” Jon replied and turned to look at Mance Ryder.

“Would you grant me your hospitality?”

The King-Beyond-the-Wall smiled.

“I would have you, Prince Aemon, for you saved one of _our_ own.

Jon or Aemon slept deep and long, his mind filled with shifting shadows and the face of the woman with the long face and brown hair. _Mother_ , he thought when he saw her, but he wasn’t sure. _Lyanna_ , Mance had called her and his heart was again filled with a deep sadness.

He had these memories without names and the only way to regain them was to leave this place.

Yet, that was not the only reason he needed to leave. Bloodraven had told him that he needed to warn the people in the south of the coming darkness.

Even so, everything felt so horribly convoluted and the pain in his head didn’t help at all.

“You are awake, princeling,” he heard Val’s grumbling voice before she slipped through the small hole into his dwelling place.

She was devoid of her usual thick white fur and only wore a pale wool dress held together by buttons of carved bones. Her hair was also open and tumbled all the way down her waist.

It was a beautiful sight, like river of beaten gold.

Yet, he didn’t like the mocking tone in her voice.

“Call me Jon…or Aemon,” he replied and pulled the furs around his shoulders. Beneath, he wore his tunic, his woolen breeches an stockings. Even so, he felt cold and his teeth clattered. “But stop calling me crow or princeling. I don’t feel like either of those two things.”

“Your sword is strange,” she said then and offered him the cup of soup he had been carrying. “I have never seen anything like it. It is so small and it was able to kill the Other.”

“It was wielded by a woman,” Jon explained and unsheathed the blade. “Visenya Targaryen.”

“I thought southron woman are only there for breeding,” Val said and brushed her hand over the rippling material. “It is warm…no, hot.”

“It is called Valyrian Steel, forged in dragon fire.”

“I still can’t believe that you killed an Other,” Val scoffed. “And you should eat. You look starved.”

Aemon did as she asked of him and ate slowly, but Val’s constant staring was bothering him.

“Did I do something to you?” he asked. “Or why are you constantly staring at me?”

“You did nothing,” Val said and leaned closer. “But I don’t trust you. There is something odd about you. I think you are a spy.”

“And why would I be spying on you?”

“To tell your father about _us_ ,” she said subtly and rose back to her feet, jerking her head at the flap of the tent. “Whatever that means, but that is not why I came here. I came here to lead you to the caves.”

Aemon gave her a confused look.

“The caves?”

“You can take a proper bath,” she explained and wrinkled his nose in disgust. “You stink and I am saying that as someone who is used to the smell of the Free Folk.”

Aemon sniffed at his hair and pelt, but he didn’t smell anything out of the ordinary. Perhaps he had grown used to it over the last years.

Still, he found himself longing for a proper bath. In the cave he had always bathed in the underwater river, where the water was always freezing cold, but clean and fresh.

“I understand,” he said and forced a smile over his lips. “I shall dress and then you can show me the way.”

“Very well,” Val replied and slipped through the flap of the tent. “I shall wait outside.”.

The icy air touching his skin made him gasp, but it also helped to wake him after his long and deep sleep.

He could tell that it was early morning by the red and violet glow on the distant horizon.

Strangely, the camp of the Freefolk was already bustling with life. That everyone was staring at him as if he was some oddity, bothered him even more.

There were men starting at him mistrustfully and a horde of boys running after him, who were throwing snowballs at him.

Only the women seemed unbothered by his presence and smiled at Val.

It took them at least an hour before they found the caves Val had spoken of. One could enter them through a small opening in the cliffy landscape covered with ice and snow. They looked almost beautiful with the shiny surface of blue and white, making it glitter like the most beautiful of gemstones.

“What are you waiting for?” Val asked impatiently after Aemon had inspected the paintings along the walls. “I don’t have time all day.”

“What is this?” Aemon asked and brushed his hand over the rough surface. It showed small children armed with spears and pikes facing other, much taller beings, who were armed with fire and swords. They looked very human.

“Carvings,” Val said impatiently and pulled on his shoulders. “They have been here ever since I can remember. Mance thinks they were made from the Children of the Forest.”

Aemon opened his mouth and nodded his head in understanding. He knew that it would do him no good to tell Val that he had actually met these famous Children of the Forest.

It made him almost wish for Leaf to be here to tell him what this was all about, but there was no time, for Val was frowning at him again.

“I am coming,” he assured her and followed after her through the narrow tunnel, the darkness making it hard to see further than a handful of steps. “I am coming.”

Yet, Val seemed to know the way like the back of her hand. Occasionally, he heard her giving him instructions while Aemon tried his best to balance himself along the walls like a blind man.

“We are almost there,” Val told him at last and pointed ahead.

The next chamber led down a steep path, light falling through the holes in the ceiling. Stones crumbled and an icy current washed over them, which made Aemon rush after Val, all the way down the steep path.

A surprised gasp escaped him when he realized just how warm it was down there.

“Come along, princeling,” Val told him with a hint of amusement.

“I am coming,” Aemon assured her and looked around, his mouth falling open in awe. The cave was very spacious and small pools of water could be found here and there, bubbling pleasantly.

Yet, that was not the only thing that surprised him. What surprised him the most was the presence of a woman with two children and another lady with two men. One of them, a bulky Wildling who lacked an ear, rose to his feet and presented his bulbous cock to them.

Val laughed. “Sit down or you will freeze off your cock!”

The other man and the woman started to snicker.

“Don’t fret, you will get your privacy,” Val promised and pulled him behind a stone wall, where they found a pool of water, just right for the size of two or three grown men. “Here…undress and get inside. I won’t stare, I promise.”

Aemon snorted and stripped off his garments one after another. Nakedness didn’t bother him as much as the girl. He had often bathed in company of the Children of the Forest.

The pleasant touch of the water on his skin was worth it, though he quickly averted his gaze when he noticed that Val was about to jump into the water on the other side.

Yet, even when she was fully submerged in the water, was he able to see her silhouette.

He felt suddenly very hot, a familiar feeling pooling between his legs. He had felt it before, whenever he dreamed of this silver-haired girl. Sometimes, he had found relief with his hand.

“Do you want me gone?” Val asked and frowned, as she leaned back against the wall. “Well, I can’t, for Mance told me to keep an eye one you.”

“Did he?” Aemon asked in disbelief. “Then, he must be really afraid that I am going to run off.”

A grimace of rage showed on Val’s face, as she brushed her wet hair away and splashed a handful of water into his face.

Aemon blinked.

“You don’t understand a simple jest, do you?”

“I understand you just fine, princeling,” Val replied and grinned, as she leaned forward. “But I still don’t trust you.”

Suddenly, he felt her hand brushing against his leg and backed away abruptly.

Val chuckled, as Aemon grabbed her hand. “I knew the water would wake your cock. He must have been feeling lonely.”

“I wasn’t alone,” Aemon replied and let go of her hand. “My friend was there.”

“Ah,” Val said and laughed again, her cheeks deeply flushed. “So, you prefer men?”

“No,” Aemon replied in a flustered tone. This Wildling girl was getting under his skin. “I don’t know what I prefer! But I think I like girls…”

“You think?” she asked, a mischievous smile crinkling on her full lips. “We could find out, no?”

Aemon sucked in a deep breath, his cock growing hard like iron, as her hand brushed over him. It had been long ago that he had last touched himself and having it done by a pretty girl like the one in front of him made it all the easier.

It made him wonder if he had been wed or had many girls in his bed in the past? Princes were no like bastards and sought out by girls aplenty.

Even so, he couldn’t remember. There was only this tender feeling of remembrance whenever he looked at Val’s pale hair.

 _That’s it_ , he thought his thoughts growing hazy. _Mayhaps I loved a girl with hair like that._

“Well, it seems you are enjoying yourself,” Val said in amusement and pulled her hand away. “That means you like girls, no?”

Aemon gasped in frustration and lifted his gaze.

Val was stared back at him with wide grey-blue eyes, her lips plumb and inviting.

They were pale and full. The sight made his cock crow only harder.

It had been so long that he had last felt the touch of a human.

He wanted more and mayhaps it would help him to regain something of himself, something he had lost in the years he had lingered beyond the Wall.

“You are rather comely…I think I might enjoy this,” Val said and climbed unto his lap, her lips touching a heartbeat later and his hands wrapping themselves around her neck to pull her closer.

Her lips were soft and inviting, her tongue only sweeter, but better was the warmth of her body against his, skin on skin.

A soft sigh escaped her lips, as he brushed his hand along her shoulder, all the way down to her breast while she continued to touch him.

Her golden hair swayed beautifully, concealing half her face..

The pleasure of it was too much, his mind growing distant and hazy. It felt as if he was floating in the sky.

He allowed it. It was easier than slipping into the mind of another creature.

Yet, when he opened his eyes again, the girl in front of him was suddenly someone else, her frame more delicate and her hair of the same length, but a touch lighter, almost like a river of moonlight.

The girl smiling down at him was no longer Val. Grey-blue eyes had been exchanged with violet ones.

It felt as if someone had poured a bucket of water over his head.

Within the blink of a moment, he found himself backed against the stone wall, his head pounding like the beat of a drum.

“What is wrong with you?” Val asked almost softly, as she climbed out of the water and pulled her pelted cloak around her naked form. „You are as pale as snow.”

“I think…I shouldn’t have…,” he said and grabbed his head. The pounding intensified and he clenched his teeth against it, but it was no use.

“I think you look like a girl I liked,” he said.

Val looked more than startled. Then, she chuckled and rose to her feet to pick up her dress.

She watched him intently as she dressed, but there was no displeasure in her bearing.

“You recalled her while we were doing _this_?”

“I think so,” Aemon stuttered and felt both shame and anger at himself. Shame because he had allowed himself to be overwhelmed by his desires and anger that he couldn’t remember the girl’s name. “Forgive me, I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you.”

Val chuckled lightly and fastened her pelted cloak again.

“We haven’t even fucked,” she replied and cracked a smile. “And I am not insulted by your refusal. And look at it that way: otherwise you might not have recalled her at all.”

It was true, but Aemon wished there was an easier way to regain his memories.

Yet, he knew thee was only one way.

 _To go south_ , he knew. _To go back home._

“You want to go south?” Mance asked him after he had returned to break his fast in company of Dalla and three other wildlings, who had come to take a look at the prince come over. Ygritte, the girl who had recognized him was also there, sucking on a piece of chicken. “And us to show you the way?”

“That is my wish,” Aemon replied and dipped his head. “But not without a reward for you. I intend to speak to on the King on behalf of the Freefolk.”

Dalla, who was currently feeding her babbling child, gave Mance a hopeful look. The other Wildings looked as if they had mixed feelings regarding _this_ topic.

“It is a chance, Mance. We should try it, “ Dalla said.

“Perhaps,” Mance said and brushed his hand over his beard, as his brown eyes darted to his Aemon’s sword. “But you must leave something here to ensure your promise. How about that sword of yours?”

He had need of their help and they had need of his help.

He clenched is teeth and offered his hand to Mance.

“We have a deal.”

...


	6. Daenerys

**Daenerys**

“It is going to rain again, Mother,” Jace observed and pulled on her hand. He was pointing at the grey sky above. “The gods are _angry_.”

It was true. It had been raining over the last weeks and not even today, on Aegon’s wedding day, did the sun show herself. The guests were already whispering about it, though Dany considered nothing but silly superstitions. Rain or sunshine, a happy marriage was surely not dependent on beautiful weather.

Aegon and Shireen were not deeply in love. She had never seen Aegon and his bride kiss or steal themselves away like she and Aemon had done, but no one couldn’t deny either that Aegon was respectful towards her.

And perhaps that was the only thing Shireen could ever expect from Aegon. It was a sad prospect in Dany’s opinion, as she had come to name Lady Shireen as a friend. She deserved more than just _respect_ , though Dany doubted was aware of Aegon’s true longings.

He had never told Dany about it, but it was quite obvious that he was still lusting after Rhaenys, whose’ presence didn’t help. Well, it wasn’t like one could expect of her to stay away from her brother’s wedding nor did Dany think that Rhaenys was aware of Aegon’s infatuation with her.

Not that it was Dany’s business. She was the last one to council anyone on weddings, for she had never been married, though she had certainly hoped for it.

Two years ago, she was still hopeful about Aemon’s return, but with every passing moon she was losing confidence. Her mother didn’t help, hoping for her to take another husband.

“The gods don’t care about weddings,” she told her son, as they followed after the procession leading from the Sept of Baelor back to the Red Keep. “The rain means _nothing_.”

Jace nodded his head in understanding and followed after her.

He was the only little boy among all these ladies and lords. There were Lady Myrcella Lannister, who was walking on Gaemon’s arm, Lady Margaery Tyrell who was beside her husband Joff, Lord Stannis Baratheon who looked like a shadow compared to the bright sun that was his wife Lady Lynesse Hightower, Lord Renly Baratheon with Princess Arianne, who wore a bright red dress that caught everyone’s attention, as did her swollen belly, a true miracle, as she head heard many say. Harry was also there, but he had no lady at his arm, for he had yet to find one. He was another suitor that her mother had brought up as a possible husband, but Dany had gotten rid of him with a clever ploy that had greatly displeased her Lady Mother. Thus, Dany had no man at her arm and walked among the maids-of-honor. There were Lady Allyria Dayne in a pink dress gown and Lady Jeyne Westerling in a blue and a silken hairband wrapped around her heart-shaped face. It suited her well, but she appeared shy as ever while Lady Allyria walked as if nothing in this world could frighten her.

Truly, it was a shame, that Dany couldn’t muster the same enthusiasm for the wedding, just as Lady Ysilla, who was constantly smiling and whispering to her daughter.

Not that Dany couldn’t understand her. Princess Naerys was the sweetest of girls and graced with ringlets of golden hair and lilac eyes that reminded her of her brother Viserys.

She also had inherited temper whenever things didn’t go her way, though the fact that Viserys allowed her to get away with every one of her _little_ misdeeds didn’t make it any easier.

The only one who truly seemed to share her lack of enthusiasm for the wedding were her brother Rhaegar and her niece Rhaenys.

Rhaegar was clad in red-and-black finery, his silver hair smooth and slick, but there was no happiness in his dark eyes nor was there a smile lingering on his pale lips. In fact, he looked very distraught, since he had returned from regular visit to the North, but that was no surprise to Dany. Both Lady Lyanna and Alysanne had refused to return.

The wedding feast was well under way when one of the minstrels played up a jolly tune.

Dany recognized the song at once. It was the _Dornishman’s wife_ , a song that sped up everyone’s heartbeat and made men and women join the dance floor.

Others preferred to remain seated, enjoying a cup of wine or filling their silver plates with one of the many excellent dishes that were being offered at this splendid wedding feast.

Rhaegar had not held back his coin, though she doubted it was much of a problem to the realm’s coffers. Both Leyton Hightower and Lord Stannis Baratheon had shown themselves to be just as generous, though the Lord of the Stormlands was widely known as a rather hesitant spender. Yet, it seemed when it came to Shireen he was prepared to waste some of his precious coin.

And it showed. Shireen’s dress was a dream come true. It was made of several layers of white silk and was decorated with numerous pearls and glittering gemstones that were reminiscent of stars. Dany had expected her to wear gold-and-black or red-and-black, but Shireen had her own mind in such matters. She had desired something _different_ and it seemed that her intentions had paid off, for Dany had yet to hear a bad word about her dress.

“Lady Shireen’s dress is a dream,” Lady Jeyne Westerling sighed beside Dany and clutched her hands to her chest. “I have never seen such a beautiful work.”

“Aegon doesn’t seem to think the same way,” Lady Allyria whispered. It made Dany glad that everyone was occupied with their own business or this might have just stirred the _rumors_ about Aegon’s many lovers.

Most of it was nonsense, for Dany knew Aegon well enough that he would never risk fathering a bastard. At times, he visited brothels in company of Harry and his other friends, mostly Ser Gerris Drinkwater and Daemon Allyrion, but she doubted he was actually bedding them.

Not that she blamed Aegon. She was no longer the little girl that had been jealous of Aemon for visiting a pleasure girl from Lys, but had long realized that these visits to the brothels of King’s Landing were more than just about these boys’ _needs_. For Aegon it was a way to deepen his friendship with these young lords on whom he would have to depend once he took the crown.

Even Shireen was probably pragmatic enough to accept it, as long as he kept his affairs hidden.

“The Prince must be nervous,” Lady Jeyne defended Aegon. It was no surprise. One day, she was dreaming of Lord Edmure Tully, who had stayed in King’s Landing for two moons to court Dany, and on the next day she was dreaming of another man. “This is an important day for him.”

“He is dreaming of Rhae,” Allyria whispered to Dany, who chuckled when she noticed how Jace was shoveling pudding into his mouth, half of it already splattered over his black tunic. Dany hadn’t even bothered to dress him in expensive finery and was sure Lady Ysilla wished she had done the same with her little girl.

Naerys, who was dressed in a shining gown of green, was already covered with sauce and pudding, though the girl seemed unbothered by it and continued to feast on the strawberries covered with whipped cream.

Dany had also eaten a bowl of strawberries, but had eaten little else. The Dornish wine didn’t help.

“Well, Rhaenys doesn’t seem to share the sentiment,” Daenerys said, as she shifted her attention to her niece, who was seated beside Lady Shireen and her cousin Princess Arianne. She had been afforded a seat of honor, just as her husband Lord Renly, who was of course seated close to his brother, Lord Stannis Baratheon and Lady Lynesse Hightower. “I have yet to see her smile. This dress of hers is a dream and certainly deserves one.”

“She has been drinking a lot,” Lady Allyria added and eyed the cup in her hands. “That is not Rhae’s way. Something must have happened _between_ them.”

Dany believed that Allyria’s feeling was right, but it was not her business nor did she think that Rhae would appreciate it.

But Allyria was different. They had known each other since they were little babes at their mother’s breasts.

“You should speak to her, Lyra,” Dany agreed and smiled as Harry passed their table. He was already drunk and leading one of Lady Margaery Tyrell’s friends to the dancefloor. “Perhaps you can find out more.”

“Perhaps,” Lady Allyria agreed and would have probably said more if their conversation hadn’t been interrupted by someone’s presence. It was Lord Edmure Tully, who was smiling at Dany. He was a comely man with reddish hair and blue eyes, but Dany found him too old.

“My Lord?” she asked and smiled, her eyes always fixed on Jace, who was currently being entertained by Lady Roslin Frey. “What can I do for you?”

He smiled at her, his blue-and-red striped cloak swaying as he bowed his head lightly. “I was hoping for a dance?”

Dany nodded her head and rose to her feet. There was no way she could refuse him. It be impolite and she would never dare to embarrass her brother.

Thus, she returned his smile and took his hand.

“It would be my pleasure, but only one dance. I do not wish to leave my son for too long.”

“Of course,” Lord Edmure replied. “Your son shall not miss you for long, Princess.”

The song was a happy one. _The Bear and the Maiden Fair_ , a song Dany had always liked. Aemon had always hated to dance, but he had often done so for her sake.

Thinking of Aemon made her sad, but she couldn’t help it. They had waited for _this_ day and now he was lost beyond the Wall.

“You are not very happy to be here, isn’t that so, Princess Daenerys?” Lord Edmure asked.

Dany tensed and put her mask in place. She felt ashamed that she had allowed herself this moment of weakness.

“I am do not like weddings, my Lord,” she admitted and looked on the ground. “Do you like weddings?”

“Weddings are a _necessary_ custom,” Lord Edmure chuckled. “But my first wedding was a long time ago.”

Dany nodded her head and noticed how sad he looked. He must have come to love the bride that had been forced upon him. The Lady had birthed him two children, a son and a daughter. Sadly, only the daughter lived.

“I imagine your daughter is even sadder,” Dany replied and smiled warmly. “I heard your wife was a good woman.”

“She was pious,” Lord Edmure replied. “But I liked her all the same. Your mother, the Queen Mother, had hoped for a match for us.”

Dany knew that he would bring it up, but that was his right. He was a High Lord and there had been no reason for her to refuse the match.

He was more than she could have hoped for, better than Harry at any day, who was only heir to the Vale and had at that fathered several bastards.

“I know,” Dany replied and lifted her gaze. “And I hurt your pride with my refusal, didn’t I?”

Lord Edmure opened his mouth, but then the music stopped and a familiar face appeared to rescue her.

It was Ser Aurane Waters, who was smiling mischievously at her.

“May I ask for the next dance?”

Lord Edmure frowned at her sworn sword like only a High Lord could look upon a _bastard_.

“And who are you?”

“My sworn sword,” Dany explained and smiled at Lord Edmure. “Which is why I cannot refuse his request. Excuse me, my Lord Edmure.”

“What did he want?” Aurane asked her and grinned. He was a comely man with silver hair and light green eyes. He looked nothing like Aemon and that is why she had chosen him. It made it much easier.

“He wanted to know why I refused our match,” Dany explained and looked after Lord Edmure. “I think I hurt his pride.”

“He is a High Lord,” Aurane said with distain. “He will soon be ploughing the most beautiful whores in this city.”

Dany chuckled.

“That is not something I want to imagine.”

“Why is it so surprising?” Aurane asked, placed his hand at her waist and took her other hand in his. He was a good dancer and there was always a smile on his lips. It was easy to talk to him. Aye, that is what Dany liked the most about him, though she rarely spoke with him about such _private_ matters. “You are a great price Princess and beautiful at that! I am pretty sure a great many silver-haired Lysean whores are pretending to be you while the great lords of Westeros are ploughing them.”

A gentle laugh spilled from her lips, as she frowned at her sworn sword.

“You should lower your voice,” Dany chided him and had barely realized that the song had ended. “This is a wedding, not a brothel.”

“Well, if it was a brothel the bridegroom would certainly look much happier to be in presence of his chosen bride.”

“Aegon will come to love her,” Dany was sure and pushed his hand away. She had danced enough, her gaze searching for her son, who was now seated beside Naerys. “I am sure of it.”

“Mother,” Jace said when he noticed her presence, a smile curling on his lips. “May I have some more pudding?”

Dany smiled at her boy and kissed his brow. He had asked so kindly, that she couldn’t bring herself to refuse his request.

“Very well, you may have another pudding,” Dany replied and smiled when the servant girl offered him a bowl of pudding.

“And a cherry for you,” Lady Ysilla added and dropped the cherry on top of his pudding. “Here.”

Jace chuckled and ate greedily while Viserys stroke up a conversation.

“What did Lord Tully want from you?”

“It was about the match,” Dany replied and averted her gaze to search for her cup. She took the flask of wine and poured wine into her cup. “But Ser Aurane saved me.”

“Did he?” Viserys asked and furrowed his brows. “Or is he just trying to use you? Mother…,” he was about to continue, but Dany shut him up.

“Mother is trying to match me up with men I have no interest in. You know I cannot marry until Jace is old enough.”

Viserys nodded his head in understanding. “And you don’t think it would be good for him to have siblings?”

“Half-siblings,” Dany insisted, though she was hiding the real truth, buried deep in her heart. The truth was that she was still hoping that Aemon might return one day. “And a father who would see him as nothing more than a burden. Do not think I don’t know what the lords and ladies at court are talking about him.”

“And by keeping company with that _bastard_ you are only stirring the rumors, sister,” Viserys replied. “You have to decide for one or the other way. I am not saying you have to get married, but this _bastard_ …,” he was about to continue, but Dany silenced him with a slap on his shoulder.

“Many a man considered our nephew a _bastard_!” she told him. “And I couldn’t care less about your council, brother!”

Dany was about to rise to her feet, but when she noticed that Jace was staring at her, she fell silent.

She opened her mouth to speak to him, but in that moment the music stopped and the calls for the bedding rang loudly through the hall.

“It’s time,” Arianne said cheerfully and pulled on Dany’s arm. “I think is time we find the groom and keep him from running away!”

Dany looked over her shoulder at her son, who was babbling with Lady Ysilla.

Lady Ysilla smiled at her and waved her hand, giving her leave to go.

This was the reassurance Dany had hoped for.

“I am coming.”

Dany was not the only lady assembling in Aegon’s bridal chamber. There were at least fifty of them, giggling as they were pulling on his clothing.

By the time, Dany and Arianne had joined them Aegon had already lost his tunic and his boots. And now the ladies were pulling on his breeches and on his cloak.

“Prince Aegon looks as if he want to run away,” Allyria remarked beside her.

Dany had tensed, as she had been surprised by her friend’s sudden appearance, but that was Allyria’s way. She had the tendency to appear out of nowhere, almost like a ghost.

“You frightened me,” Dany admitted and smiled when she noticed that Jeyne was also there. As always, she was blushing. Only Lady Roslin was missing.

“Where is Lady Roslin?”

“Last time I saw her she was dancing with Lord Tully,” Jeyne whispered to Dany and beamed. Dany knew why. She and Lady Jeyne had become good friends. They were both rather shy and seemed to understand each other naturally. Jeyne was also the kind of person who was always hoping for others to be happy. “I think he is _already_ enchanted with her, but then who wouldn’t?”

Dany didn’t doubt that, but there were many in the Riverlands who looked down on the Frey lords. The same could be said about House Targaryen, but then Dany couldn’t claim to know any Frey’s beyond Lady Roslin.

“Roslin is wonderful,” Dany agreed wholeheartedly. She was very pleased that Lord Tully was looking elsewhere for a new wife. “They have my blessing.”

Lady Jeyne chuckled softly. “Shireen is so very brave!”

Dany looked over her shoulder at Aegon’s and Shireen.

She allowed the men to undress her with the same calm attitude with which she faced everything in life, but Dany knew her well enough to know that she was nervous. She could tell it by the way she was biting her lips.

“She has been waiting for this day a long time,” Dany said and noticed that Aegon had finally recovered his courage and was finally pushing the ladies’ away. “I think she will be fine. I am more worried about Aegon. He looks rather pale.”

Lady Allyria snorted. “Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Isn’t the bride supposed to be afraid?”

“You are one to talk,” Dany jested, as she pushed Lady Allyria out of the room to join the others.

“You have already delayed your own wedding two times. I am surprised Lord Beric has not long married another woman.”

“He is patient to wait,” Allyria said and frowned. The topic of her ever-approaching wedding never failed to dim her mood. “And I am in no hurry. You know that I would prefer to forgo this nonsense altogether, but the only way I could do that is by joining the Silent Sisters. Sadly, I hate the Seven-Pointed-Star even more than the idea of marriage. There should be another way, but not everyone is as lucky as you.”

Dany was taken back by her words. “Lucky? Me?”

“You get to refuse a match without any consequences. Being the King’s sister sure has its advantages.”

Dany bit her lips in displeasure. “Maybe, but not all of it is as glorious as you may think. The day will come when I won’t be able to escape such a commitment.”

Allyria shrugged her shoulders and said noting more before taking her seat beside Lady Jeyne and Lady Roslin.

Dany didn’t say anything either and went to seek out her son, who was still babbling with Lady Ysilla.

Naerys was also there, but she was half asleep on Viserys’ lap.

“I think it s time for bed,” Dany announced, which earned her a frown from Jace. “Naerys is already asleep. It is time for you to join her.”

“But I am not at all tired, mother!” Jace complained. “I won’t be able to sleep.”

“That will come after you had a proper bath,” Dany announced and grabbed him beneath the arms. He struggled, but stopped when she placed him back on his two feet. “And you are indeed in need of a proper bath. You have cream and pudding everywhere.”

“It was not my doing,” he complained and pointed at Naerys. “Naerys can never keep her spoon still.”

Dany clucked her tongue and shook her head in disapproval. “Now…now, we don’t accuse people who have no way to defend themselves.”

“She really can’t hold a spoon without twitching,” Lady Ysilla said and grinned. “Well, you know how she is when her excitement gets the better of her.”

“Indeed,” Dany smiled and noticed that Rhaenys was disappearing in company of Lady Allyria. “And now I must take my leave from you. I am tired.”

With these words, she kissed Viserys’ and Lady Ysilla’s cheeks and dismissed Lady Jeyne and Lady Roslin from her service to spend the rest of the night as they pleased.

“Will there be another wedding?” Jace asked after he had dipped his head beneath the water, his silver locks sticking to his longish face. It made him look even more than Aemon.

Dany chuckled and brushed his wet hair out of his face.

“Why are you asking? Have you taken a liking for weddings?”

“I had the best kind of cakes,” Jace said and beamed. “Why do we only get such cakes when people do the kiss thing?”

Dany doubted he would understand the purpose of a wedding and decided to leave this question unanswered.

“I think it is better if you get out of the water,” Dany replied and picked the dry cloth from the ground. “It is getting cold.”

Jace nodded his head and hopped out of the water. Dany was quick about to scrub him dry and grinned when his hair stuck up in all directions.

When she was done, she handed him his sleeping tunic and allowed him to dress himself.

Not long ago, he had started insisting that a boy of three had to dress himself.

“I am done,” he announced and Dany took in his appearance. His hair was still wet, but he had managed to close the buttons properly this time around. “I am done.”

“Well done,” Dany praised him and before sending him to his nursemaid. In the past, Dany had always read or sung for him, but that too was a matter of the past now, for her boy was insisting that he was too old for such things.

It was good that he was growing up and becoming independent, but Dany also knew it marked a change she wasn’t yet comfortable with.

She felt the loneliness even more when she returned to her chambers.

It was a dreadful feeling she wanted to escape from and caused her to leave her chamber. She didn’t know why, but a heartbeat later she found herself watching the drunken guardsmen.

Aurane was among them, laughing about some frivolous jest of theirs.

When she stepped closer, they fell silent.

“Princess,” Aurane greeted her and dipped his head. “How may I be of service?”

“Do you care for a cup of wine?”

He gave her a curious look and clocked his head.

“I have had my fill tonight,” Aurane told her. “Which means I should refuse your offer, then you know I cannot help to be _dazzled_ by your presence.”

Dany rolled her eyes.

“You may keep that empty flattery to yourself,” Dany replied and led him back to her chamber, where she opened a flask of wine and poured the liquid in her cup and in another for Aurane.

He drank only little and placed the cup back on the table before regarding her perfectly made bed.

“I am surprised to find the Prince missing?”

“He wishes to be a grown boy and sleep in his own chambers,” Dany explained. “And he does not always sleep in my bed. Remember at Dragonstone…,” she trailed off and felt now almost ashamed that she had been playing this mummery to prevent a marriage.

“I remember,” Aurane replied and smiled. “I liked what we did, but I remember that you had me sleep on the floor.”

Dany blushed at that. She had been very drunk and beyond some fumbling and kissing, she hadn’t done much that night. Well, it had counted more what the servants had spread on the next day.

“I am sorry about that,” she replied and stepped closer. It had been a long time ago that she had felt comfortable enough to attempt something like this.

Yet, she also knew the man in front of her could not serve as a replacement or as a husband. He could only serve as a step into the future.

 _If I look back I am lost_ , she reminded herself and started to fumble with the clasp of her cloak.

“Well, would you care to stay for tonight? I cannot risk getting with child and moon tea might only make it harder for me to conceive in the future, but there are other ways to enjoy ourselves.”

Aurane laughed, his green eyes twinkling, as he watched her dress slide down her body, leaving her only dressed in her undertunic.

“That is fine with me. I always take what I can get.”

Dany chuckled. His forward nature was his most redeeming quality, but deep down she knew he was a scoundrel.

She was not foolish enough to believe that someone like him would ever be loyal to her.

“You are a true scoundrel,” she chided him and rose on her tip toes to brush her lips over his, but never touching. “And I _might_ just give you want you want.”

He laughed and wrapped his hand around her waist, to pull her closer, his lips touching hers ever softly.

It was then, that she heard the knock at the door.

“Who is there?” she asked quickly and picked up her dress. She was quick about to pull it over her shoulders to conceal her undertunic when the answer came.

“Mother,” her son’s muffled voice reached her through the door. “It is me.”

“Oh,” Dany replied and quickly fastened the findings of her dress before waving her hand at Aurane. “Of course! Just a moment please!”

When she opened the door she found her son standing there in his nightgown and his feet bare.

He was hopping from one feet to the other, as if this simple movement was enough to drive away the chill.

“Where is your nursemaid?” was the first thing she asked him.

“She is sleeping,” he confessed and slipped inside her chamber. “Are you angry?”

“Not at all,” Dany said quickly and picked him up to carry him to the bed while jerking her head at the door, indicating for Aurane to _fucking_ leave before Jace could see him. “I am just surprised. I thought you wanted to be a big boy.”

“I want to be a big boy,” he confirmed and started to hop up and down the bed. “But…,” he was about to continue, but Aurane was still there, grinning from ear to the other, as he dipped his head.

“I can understand why you would want to sleep in your mother’s arms,” he jested and slipped out of the room.

Dany felt the urge to kick him, but then she shouldn’t have expected anything less of him. It was his way and what she liked about him.

“Why was _he_ here, mother?” Jace didn’t hesitate to ask.

“He is my sworn sword,” Dany explained. “I told him to search for someone in my room.”

Jace was silent for a moment, as if he was pondering over her words.

Then, he nodded his head in acceptance and continued to explain is presence.

“I wanted to be a big boy, but I had a nightmare…and I …you know.”

Dany knew what he was talking about. It happened now and then that he peed into his bed, but it was always an embarrassment for him.

Dany sighed and went to ruffle his hair, as she took in his clothing. “But your tunic is fresh, isn’t it?”

“Aye,” he explained. “I washed and got a fresh one. It wasn’t that hard.”

“I see,” Dany replied and started to loosen the bindings of her dress once more. Then, she slipped into the bed and pulled the bedding over them. “Well, I shall take care of it on the morrow. Do you want to tell me about your nightmares?”

Jace shrugged his shoulder. “I don’t remember them.”

Dany laughed. “I suppose that is a good thing. It is always better to forget about one’s nightmares.”

He laughed and freed himself from the bedding.

“I am not tired at all! I think the cake made me all jumpy! Can’t you tell me a story?”

“I don’t know many stories,” Dany replied, though in truth she only felt very tired, all her previous interest in her long-buried desires forgotten. “And it is time for bed.”

Jace frowned.

“Mother, why do we get so much cakes on weddings? Is it such an important thing?”

“Because Aegon got married to Lady…Princess Shireen.”

“And what does that mean?”

“It means that they are going to live together and have children,” Dany tried to explain the concept of marriage as best as possible .”It is rather complicated.”

Jace frowned at that. “Why are you not married then? You have me.”

Dany felt as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water over her head.

“I….,” she said and shook her head. “I think you will have to wait another year or so for me to tell you about that. It is rather compicated.”

“Naerys says it is very simple. She says that babies hatch from eggs like dragons. She also says that dragons can be a boy and a girl at the same time. Are you like the dragons?”

“No,” Dany replied. “We are certainly not like dragons. You always need to a boy and a girl to make a baby. And they also don’t hatch from eggs…Well, dragons hatch from eggs, but not humans.”

Jace nodded his head and furrowed his brows once more.

“I see,” he said and looked at the door. “Is Ser Aurane my father?”

Dany clenched her teeth and tensed at once. She almost felt like a traitor.

“No,” she said and cradled her sons face between her hands. “He is not your father. I shall explain it to you when you are a bit older…And now it is time for sleep.”

Jace nodded his head and finally lay down. He looked disappointed. “I understand, Mother.”

…


	7. Lyanna

**Lyanna**

A sharp wind was stirring the leaves of the weirwood tree and was bringing forth a rustling sound that never failed to soothe Lyanna. It was like one of her mother’s songs, soft and sweet at once. As a little girl she had always believed that the Old Gods lived in the trees and that they were watching them. Now she was grown-up and beyond such superstitions. Even so, she came here almost every day, sometimes to pray and sometimes to reason with the gods, but today she came to thank them.

Three years had gone since her boy had disappeared beyond the Wall, but it seemed the gods had finally heard her pleading and her boy was going to return to her.

At first, Lyanna had not even believed it when Ned had shown her the raven from Castle Black, but when Benjen had ridden to the Wall and had sent them another raven to confirm the truth, she knew it was true.

Her boy was alive.

Sadly, her brother had refrained from writing more. She only knew that her boy was alive and thus the last two weeks had still been more than terrible.

Lyanna had tried her best to distract herself by occupying her mind with all kinds of duties. She had worked with Sansa on a new dress for Alysanne, had taken Lady Arya and her unwanted suitor, Cley Cerwyn, for a daily ride to the godswood and had spent time with Alysanne, who was teaching the high harp to Sansa and Jeyne Poole.

Lady Catelyn was still avoiding her, but Lyanna had long given up hope that her good-sister would ever warm up to her. It was quite clear that she wanted Lyanna gone from Winterfell and perhaps she would soon get her wish. With Aemon back, Rhaegar would expect her to return to King’s Landing.

The throught frightened her, but she also longed to see Gaemon and Daenerys’ little boy. Egg, Rhae and Viserys she had also missed dearly, though she doubted they shared that notion. Egg was now a grown man and Rhaenys had never been very close with Lyanna due to her mother.

“It is time, mother,” Alysanne say behind her. “Uncle Benjen is coming.”

Lyanna turned around and found Alysanne walking on Arya’s arm. Side by side, they looked almost like sisters. They shared the same brown hair, grey eyes and long face, but Alysanne was slightly taller and Arya’s eyes were a lighter shade of grey.

“I thank you for telling me, sweetling,” Lyanna said and stepped closer to touch Alysanne’s shoulder. She smiled at Arya. “Did one of the outriders return?”

Arya nodded her head in confirmation. “Aye, Tom has just returned. They should be here soon. Do you want us to call for him?”

“No need,” Lyanna replied and pulled up the skirt of her grey dress. Her boots were wet from the snow, but she had other things on her mind than the state of her dress. Her heart was racing when she thought of her son. “I rather have a cup of wine. I will have need of a calm head.”

Arya chuckled. “Father said the same.”

Lyanna was surprised to hear this. “Ned, drinking during the day? Now that is a _strange_ indeed.”

As Arya had told her, she found Ned waiting for her in his solar. He was impatiently pacing up and down the room while Lady Catelyn was watching him with growing concern.

Alysanne was seated on a chair beside the hearth in company of Sansa and Jeyne Poole, who were working on new mufflers. Arya was also there, but she wasn’t participating. She was watching the flames while Lyanna was twirling her empty cup in her hand.

It was Rickon’s loud scream that put an end to Ned’s pacing.

“They are _here_!”

Robb followed shortly after, though in a more dignified manner. He was after all nearly a man grown, but was still grinning from one ear to the other.

“As Rickon said…I just saw the riders coming.”

Lyanna didn’t need to hear more than that, before she grabbed her skirt and bridged the distance between herself and Alys.

“Let us see your brother,” Lyanna said and offered her hand to her daughter and led her down the steps and outside into the morning air.

The sound of clopping horse hooves was the first thing she heard before she saw the glimpse of a grey cloak.

Benjen was the first one riding into the courtyard, followed by Ser Arthur and a young man.

At first, she had believed him to one of the guardsmen, but when he pulled off his shawl and revealed his long face, she knew it was _him_.

Lyanna knew that she ought to act dignified, but that was hard to do when her son was coming home after three years of absence.

Lyanna sucked in a deep breath.

Then, she made a step forward, but when her son looked back at her, she could neither speak nor move.

They were both silent now, as he climbed from the saddle of his horse.

Lyanna couldn’t help but to gasp softly when she saw his missing eye, but when she realized that he was otherwise unharmed, a chuckle spilled from her lips.

Then her son spoke.

The sound of his voice was hoarse and raw. It was the voice of a man, not the boy she had seen riding North. “You are my mother, are you not?”

Lyanna was slightly fazed by the way he had worded his question, but she was too blinded by her relief to see him. He seemed just as hesitant and made no attempt to bridge the distance between them.

Thus, Lyanna decided to make the first step and pulled him into a tight embrace. He had grown so much that she only reached to his chin.

“Of course it is me,” she confirmed and nuzzled her cheek against his shoulder, the smell of snow and wood filling her nose. “Who else? Have I changed so much?”

“I do,” he confirmed hesitatingly and watched her closely with his one good eye. From the other was nothing left but a dark hole, but Lyanna couldn’t care less. Frozen tears of joy ran down her cheeks, as she cradled his face between her hands. “Do you recognize me, mother?”

“Of course,” she confirmed and touched his cheek. “But you are now a man grown. Not the little boy who left me three years ago.”

“I doubt I was that _little_ , mother,” her son said and tightened his grip on her shoulder, his dark eye darting to Alysanne.

“I saw you _before_ ,” he said and smiled. “You are my sister, aren’t you? Alysanne?”

“Aye,” Alysanne confirmed and beamed, stretching out her hand towards her brother. “I have been watching you _too_ , brother.”

“I see,” he said and lifted his sister from the ground. She chuckled when he placed her back on the cracking snow. “So you can speak to the _crows_?”

Alysanne grinned. “I can. _They_ told me that you would come back. I told _everyone_ , but they wouldn’t listen.”

“ _Crows_ are liars,” Arya grumbled beside him. The others had fortunately not heard the strange conversation between Alysanne and Aemon.

“We are glad to have you back,” Ned added politely. “But I think you should go inside to warm yourself…,” he trailed off, his gaze wandering over the rest of the assembled people. Half the castle had come to pay witness to her son’s return. There were Sansa, Lady Jeyne and Beth, many of the servants and guardsmen and even Lady Catelyn, who was rubbing her shoulders against the cold, a twitching Rickon holding tightly unto her arm.

“I thank you, Uncle,” her son replied quietly. His gaze had flickered momentarily to Benjen, who was whispering to his daughter and wife Dacey. “A warm hearth would be welcome.”

“Then I suggest we go inside,” Lady Catelyn suggested and shifted her attention to Arya and Robb.

“Show your cousin the way inside, Robb. And Arya…go and tell the kitchen maids to prepare supper,” she instructed and both Robb and Arya were quick to attend to their cousin, leading him to the castle.

Her son looked a little helpless, as he regarded Winterfell’s grey walls, as if this was the first time he had laid eyes on the castle.

A terrible foreboding overcame her. Something was wrong with her boy, but she couldn’t say what it was.

“You have noticed it too, haven’t you?” Benjen asked her after he had handed their daughter back to his wife Dacey. “It is no imagination…he cannot remember. Most of what he knows I told him.”

Lyanna felt as if someone slapped her and searched Arthur’s gaze, who appeared just as distraught.

“It is true,” Ser Arthur said. “But I think you should refrain from bringing it up. I think he just _needs_ time.”

“Of course,” Lyanna said and rubbed her hands, as she looked back at Benjen. “Perhaps he ought to see Maester Luwin.”

“I doubt even Maester Luwin can cure the Prince’s predicament,” Ser Arthur whispered beside her. Alysanne was not far, walking on Dacey’s arm.

Not long after, they found themselves seated in the Great Hall and they were breaking their fast on some well-made venison, pumpkin pie and sweet carrots. The wine was even better, hot and sweet on the tongue.

Aemon ate slowly, savoring each bite and Lyanna headed Benjen’s advice. She gave her son the time he _needed_.

“Do you want some more wine, my son?”

He had looked up in that moment, an expression of softness washing over his long face.

When a hint of a smile washed over his lips, she felt her heart warm from the inside out.

“I thank you, mother. I would like to have some more.”

“No wonder,” Ned said and eyed him with a mixture of sadness and confusion. Lyanna realized then that he must have known about it too. _Everyone is hiding things from me as if I am some little girl._ “Your time beyond the Wall must have been hard. Where have you been all this time?”

Aemon sucked in a deep breath and lifted his cup to his lips. He drank greedily, his pale cheeks glowing. When he was done he placed the cup back on the table and spoke.

“This is what I know: We were attacked by the Others and I was saved by a man named Bloodraven. He resides in a cave beyond the Wall and he has trained me for three years. For these three years, I didn’t know who I was, but one day he sent me off on an errant. As a consequence, I came about a group of Wildlings who brought me before their King…The King-Beyond-the-Wall,” her son explained, his hand brushing through his dark hair. “One of his subjects, a girl named Ygritte, recognized me. I know that all of you know me better than myself, but for me you are strangers…I remember your faces, some of your names, but all of it is blurred and distant, as if clouded by a thick mist.”

Lyanna had listened in silence, but now her emotions were beginning to spill forth.

“Bloodraven?” Lyanna asked and leaned over to search his face. “Are you sure?”

“Wasn’t he Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch?” Robb asked.

“He was,” Ned said and nodded his head in agreement, his arms crossed in front of him. “At least, that is what I remember from the tales. Are you sure?”

“I am sure,” Aemon said. “He gave me _Dark Sister_.”

“ _Dark Sister_!” Arthur shouted. His face was pale like ash, as he drew closer. “Where is it?”

“I had to leave the sword with Mance Ryder,” her son explained through clenched teeth. “He demanded it as a token of trust, but I swear I am not lying. I met Bloodraven, I saw the Others and I left _Dark Sister_ with Mance Ryder.”

“How dare _he_!” Arthur snarled. “How can he claim that sword as his own! It belongs to House Targaryen!”

“It was the only thing I could offer, though,” Aemon said and searched Lyanna’s gaze across the table. “Other than the _promise_ I made.”

“The _promise_?” Lyanna asked curiously. “What kind of _promise_ was that?”

“I fear I can only tell father about it,” Aemon said and brushed his hand over his face. He looked very exhausted. “Forgive me, but would you mind if I lay down for tonight? I think it is better if we speak on the morrow.”

Lyanna watched her son go and only when the door had closed behind her, did she shift her attention back to Ned, Arthur and Benjen.

“Why didn’t you tell me about his state?”

Ned remained silent, Benjen shrugged his shoulders and Arthur shook his head.

“We didn’t want to frighten you, sister,” Benjen replied. “And we don’t even know how much damage has been done. While he doesn’t seem to know who we are, he seems to have kept his other memories. He told me aplenty about the Targaryens and the Starks. As you said…Maester Luwin should examine him. He knows more about such matters.”

Lyanna sighed deeply and cradled her head in her hands. “Perhaps that is the only way. Let us hear what Luwin has to say. I doubt Aemon will refuse.”

“I agree,” Ser Arthur said and graced her with an encouraging smile. It gave her courage. “What do you make of his tales?”

“I cannot say,” Lyanna replied. Rhaegar had believed in such tales, but Lyanna had always had her doubts. “But I do not think my son his lying. He is certainly convinced that he met these Others and this Bloodraven.”

“True,” Ned said. “But we should also take into consideration that he seems very affected by his harrowing experiences beyond the Wall. Perhaps a more natural explanation could be found?”

“Perhaps, perhaps,” Benjen said and clucked his tongue. “I think we should reserve our judgments for later. Speaking of judgements, I think you should write to the King, sister. I doubt your husband would be pleased if you keep this important piece of information from him.”

Lyanna nodded her head in confirmation. “Indeed. I shall write to him as soon as possible.”

“Aemon will be well again, mother,” Alysanne assured her after she had brushed her hair and had written the letter for Rhaegar. “I know it.”

Lyanna didn’t want to dim her daughter’s hopes and leaned closer to kiss her cheek.

“I am sure you are right, Alys,” she said. “Aemon will remember in time.”

“I mean it,” Alysanne replied and frowned. She put away the brush and drew closer to touch Lyanna’s shoulder. “I am not lying, mother. The man in the three told me that Aemon will be well if we bring him to the weirwood. He said I could help him…the _crows_ told me the same…,” her daughter continued to babble, but Lyanna silenced her with a squeeze on her shoulder.

Alysanne certailny believed in her tales, but she was ten and four. The time would come when she would be wed and then she couldn’t go around spreading such colorful tales.

“I know you are just trying to comfort me, sweetling,” Lyanna said and embraced her. “But I don’t see how a weirwood could heal your brother’s broken mind.”

Alys had tensed when she had said this.

“Very well, mother,” she said and leaned closer to kiss Lyanna’s cheek. “I shall not speak about the matter again. I am tired. I shall go to bed now.”

Lyanna knew she had acted wrongly.

 _I hurt her spirit_ , she realized and poured herself another cup wine, but drank only half of it. _Foolish woman, you can’t even take care of her own children._

With a throbbing head and a bleeding heart she went to bed, but only slept for a few hours until the first rays of sunshine were falling through the high windows.

She had already dressed when Arya poked her head into the door. Rickon was with her and so was Lyarra, Benjen’s little girl.

“Can we speak to Aemon?” asked Rickon. “We want to hear about the Wall! Do you know if he saw direwolves and giants?”

“Or about this _crow_!” Arya added excitedly. “He said something about a _crow_!”

It pained Lyanna to hear their excitement. None of them understood that Aemon was not right in the head.

And it pained her even more to refuse them.

“Your cousin is very _exhausted_ ,” Lyanna explained. “I think you should give him a handful of days before he can entertain you with his stories.”

Or until Maester Luwin has taken care of him….

Disappointment was written all over their faces.

“Very well,” Arya said and pulled on Rickon’s and Lyarra’s shoulders. “We shan’t bother him.”

When they were gone, Lyanna fastened her cloak and went to seek out Ser Arthur, who had offered to watch over her son.

As expected, she found them both awake and in company of Robb and Alysanne. They were breaking their fast with boiled eggs, crusted toast, butter and cheese and the bitter ale that was consumed almost daily in the North by child and man alike.

They were laughing, but fell immediately silent when they noticed her entrance.

Especially, Alysanne grew tense and pulled on Aemon’s shoulder.

“Mother has come to take you to the Maester, brother.”

Aemon smiled, but it was not the same.

“I am coming,” he said and rose to his feet. “I shall be pleased to see a Maester. My eye has been ailing me.”

“What do you think, Maester Luwin?” Lyanna asked the Maester after he had examined her son thoroughly, who had left to join Robb and Alys and the rest of the Stark children. “What ails my son?”

Maester Luwin scrubbed his chin, as he pondered over her question before he shifted his attention to Lyanna, Ned and Lady Catelyn and Ser Arthur, who had joined them not long ago.

“Besides his damaged eye, the Prince seems very healthy to me,” Maester Luwin said. “Healthier than expected considering that he spent the last three years beyond the Wall and wasn’t used to such a hard climate. Still his damaged eye needs proper covering. As for his mind…a loss of memory is usually caused by a hard hit on the head, but when I inspected him I found no evidence of such a past incident. My impression is that there is another reason for his current state of mind. Shock perhaps. That happens sometimes.”

“Meaning?” Lord Stark asked.

Maester Luwin frowned. “That he will regain his memory over time.”

Lyanna had thought so much, her mind was immediately straying back to the conversation she had had with her daughter the night before. She had claimed that she knew a way to bring back Aemon’s memory.

 _Nonsense_ , Lyanna brushed these thoughts away and shifted her attention back to Maester Luwin.

“Well, I have sent word to Rhaegar,” Lyanna announced. “Mayhaps it will help if he sees other members of his family. What do you think, Maester Luwin?”

“I think that is a good idea,” the Maester agreed and smiled. “I also wish to observe him in the coming weeks. I am especially intrigued by his strange hair. I have never seen anything like it. It must have been a very _vicious_ kind of poison.”

“The effect of an ice spider,” Ned repeated and frowned. “At least that is what the boy told us. Do you really think that is possible?”

“Why not?” Lyanna asked. She was beginning to question everything she had believed in. “My son also claims that he saw the Others and was saved by a man that is long dead. This man of the Night’s Watch…. _Will_ …he said the same things. I think it is time that we start considering that there is more to the world than the eyes can see.”

“True,” Ned said. “But the Others, Lya. It is hard to believe.”

“Indeed,” Ser Arthur said. “But you know how they say …there is always a hint of truth to be found in tales of old. Perhaps the same goes for the Others. I only know that Prince Aemon is not prone to lying.”

“So much is true,” Lady Catelyn said and shifted in her seat. “But there is another matter that should occupy our minds. Do you think these _Wildlings_ could become a danger for us, Ned?”

“Perhaps,” Benjen said. “They are certainly a problem for us at Bear Island, but I do not see how they would be able to cross the Wall.”

“But that didn’t keep them from trying to cross the Wall in the past,” Lady Catelyn pointed out.

“Aemon said that Mance Ryder made some sort of a _bargain_ with him,” Lyanna said. “Think what you want about the King-Beyond-the-Wall, but he could have taken my boy as a hostage and yet he allowed him to go free.”

“In exchange for _Dark Sister_ ,” Arthur said and clenched his teeth. “A price far too high!”

“Well, it seems this Mance Ryder is a _cunning_ man, Ser Arthur,” Lady Catelyn pointed.

Lyanna chuckled. She got him there. “It certainly was a good way to _ensure_ my son’s loyalty. I suppose we will have to wait and see.”

“I _suppose_ you are right, my lady,” Catelyn said later when the men at left to attend to their duties. “But the question is…How long will it take?”

Lyanna tried to keep her composure. She hadn’t expected that her good-sister would be so forward. “Are you hoping for me to _leave,_ my Lady?”

Lady Catelyn’s flabbergasted expression was rather amusing to behold. She never took well to Lyanna’s blunt nature.

“Of course not,” Lady Catelyn lied. “But surely you are now returning to your duties, _your Grace_? And Princess Alysanne…she is ten and four. The King must be considering a match for her…”

Rhaegar had indeed considered a match for her and Lyanna had every intention to return home to her duties once Aemon was better:

“In fact, Rhaegar intends to _wed_ Alysanne to your nephew, my Lady,” Lyanna said and savored it when Lady Catelyn nearly dropped her needlework.

“The King intends to wed your daughter to Lysa’s boy? I am _surprised_ …,” she began, but remembered her manners before she continued.

“That Lady Lysa would consider wedding her son to my blind girl?” Lyanna asked. She held no great love for the match, but she didn’t think Rhaegar would wed their daughter to a monster. “Well, your sister’s husband agreed to the match…I think we _both_ know him. Lord Petyr Baelish. Brandon nearly killed him, my Lady. It seems he has gone far since he was nearly killed by my brother’s hand.”

Strangely, Lady Catelyn smiled at that. “I heard about Lysa’s marriage. It is good that she found someone she cares for, though I doubt her lords approved of it.”

“They were not happy at all,” Lyanna said. “At least, that is what Rhaegar told me. Especially, Lord Royce is hostile towards your sister’s new husband, though the whole discord started much earlier. The truth is Lord Royce is vying for the power in the Vale and that is the very reason why Rhaegar is entertaining the match with your nephew. His health may have improved since he had been put into the care of Ser Gerold’s care, but I think one cannot say that my daughter is unworthy of him. Even Maester Marwyn has said that it is very likely that Alysanne will be able to bear healthy heirs.”

“Likely is not sure,” Lady Catelyn countered. “But you are right. Lysa has no right to judge your girl. I have met her boy once…he has a very fragile health. Your girl is very _lively_ compared to that and perhaps that will be good for Lysa’s boy. She is also a Princess of House Targaryen. I am sure the Lords of the Vale will feel honored.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” Lyanna replied and walked towards the door. “But that is part of Rhaegar’s plan. By supporting the true heir to the Vale and by that extension a kin to Lord Edmure Tully and Lord Eddard Stark, it is very _unlikely_ that Lord Royce will be successful in staging any _usurpation_ , for neither your brother nor Ned would stand for it.”

With these words, Lyanna went to seek out her son.

She found him in company of Alys, Arya, Sansa and Arthur. Alysanne was playing on her harp when Lyanna entered the room, a sweet and melancholic tune filling her ears. It was not as subtle as Rhaegar’s play, but it was still very enjoyable. Her daughter had talent and it seemed Aemon liked it, for a smile was curling on his lips.

Lyanna couldn’t bring herself to interrupt them and waited until silence returned to the room.

“Wonderful,” Lyanna said and clapped her approval. “You played well.”

“Alys is very talented,” Aemon agreed and smiled at Lyanna. “Do you wish to speak to me, mother?”

“Aye,” she confirmed and wrung her hands around each other, unsure how to talk to her son. “I had hoped we could break our fast alone. How does that sound?”

“It would be my pleasure.,” Aemon replied.

Lyanna and her son broke their fast with roasted chicken and fried onions. It was her son’s favorite dish, but he said nothing. She hoped it might rouse his memories, but it seemed she was wrong in that regard.

“Do you want some more wine, my son?” Lyanna inquired for the second time since she had reunited with her son. He looked much better since he had gotten sleep and proper food. His face had regained some color and with the dark patch covering his eye and his hair properly brushed he looked like the young Prince he had once been. Only his white locks on the side were rather strange, but then he was at least not in any other way crippled.

“I had enough,” he replied and put his fork down .”I have yet to get used to all this food. The Maester said I should take it slowly or my stomach might get upset. I lived for many years on rather _simple_ food.”

“I see,” Lyanna said. “Well, you will get even better food in the south. The best kind of food.”

“It is not the food I want to know about,” her son said at last and exhaled deeply after brushing his hair out of his face. “What I really wanted to ask you is this…Was I wed?”

His question filled her with hope. Perhaps he had finally recalled something.

“No,” Lyanna said and shook her head. “But you were betrothed…Well, you are still betrothed. Daenerys has not wed in your absence…She also…,” she began, but stopped herself in the last moment. Lyanna was sure Daenerys would want to tell him herself. “She missed you very much.”

Her son stared at her and smiled. It seemed he was very happy that he had guessed right.

“Does she have silver hair?”

Lyanna chuckled, half in atmusement and half in disappointment. “Aye, she has silver hair and she is your Aunt. I am also sure Rhaegar is going to bring her. Perhaps she will also write.”

“Have you written that I am not right?” Aemon asked worriedly and brushed his fingers over his empty cup. “I don’t wish to frighten _them_.”

Lyanna’s heart ached when she heard this.

“You could never frighten them. They will be very happy to have you back.”

“I hope so,” her son said and rubbed his hands over his cheeks. “I am trying to remember…I hope you are right, mother. Now I think I should go back to bed. The day has been exhausting. Goodnight.”

With these last words, her son left her to her own thoughts.

Once she got back to the capital, she would have to learn how to dress properly again. There she wouldn’t be able to wear her comfortable wool dresses, but silk and tightly-fit gowns.

She dreaded it, but she also longed to see Rhaegar. She knew she had caused him great pain with her actions, but every time she had wanted to leave, her heart had told her to stay. And it wasn’t like she had been wrong? Aemon had come back.

Her praying and hoping had paid off, even if not all her wishes had come true. Her son had changed, but he was still her son.

She didn’t know why, but tonight was the first time she was able to sleep properly.

Still, she woke early, the sky still dark outside her blurred glass windows. She didn’t know why, but some invisible force drove her to seek out her daughter.

Alysanne hadn’t spoken to her since she had doubted her tale and Lyanna wanted to make peace with her.

Yet, when she knocked at the door she received no answer.

Thus, she want to seek out Sansa and Arya, who were seated with the other girls to attend to their stitching lessons, though unlike the other girls, Arya was mending her clothing. It had been Lyanna’s idea to give her something more _useful_ to do rather than something _artistic_.

And it seemed to work, for Arya was indeed more enthusiastic about mending her riding breeches embroidering handkerchiefs. And it would also serve her future husband. That was if she would ever allowed anyone to bed her…

“Arya,” Lyanna called out to her niece. “Have you seen Alysanne?”

“She went out with Prince Aemon,” Sansa was quick to answer. “They wanted to take a walk in the godswood.”

Lyanna nodded her head and went to fasten her cloak. Then, she stepped out to the godswood.

Fresh snowflakes were falling from the sky, touching her cheek and her hair.

When she saw her two children seated beside the heart tree, her heart grew only lighter.

“Aemon…Alys!” she called out to them, but stopped abruptly.

From afar, it had looked as if they were praying, but up close, she realized that something was very wrong.

Her eyes were completely white and her mouth was opening and closing, making sounds in a language Lyanna had never heard before.

Aemon was beside her, one hand holding unto Alysanne’s shoulder and his other hand touching the tree.

On the branches of the weirwood tree sat numerous crows…at least a good dozen of them. They were watching her children in silence.

It was then that Alys started to move and turned around.

A smile curled on her daughter’s lips.

“It is done, mother.”

Lyanna was confused by her answer and looked at Aemon, who opened his eyes a heartbeat later.

He was smiling at her, but in a different manner. More like his old self, the boy she had said goodbye to three years ago.

“It is me, mother.”

…


	8. Rhaella

**Rhaella**

The windows were blurred by the storm that had washed over Dragonstone in the early morning. All night, Rhaella had heard the rolling thunder that had made the windowpanes rattle and had made it almost impossible for her to find any sleep.

Thus, she had risen early and had asked Ser Bonifer Hasty to keep her company, as she had often done in the past.

Truly, she should feel ashamed for doing such things at her old age, but she was different than common old ladies.

For Rhaella had never loved her husband. She had done her duty like her father had asked of her, but her heart had never been in it. By the end of their marriage, Rhaella had loathed Aerys.

She recalled his death, as if it had happened yesterday.

Aerys had been lying in a puddle of his own blood, only wheezing when Rhealla had joined Rhaegar in the throne room.

He had looked at her in that moment, his lilac eyes filled with rage and perhaps a hint of betrayal.

Rhaella had done the unforgivable. A dignified Queen would have pretended to cry, but she had smiled.

It was not the only undignified thing she had done after her marriage, for barely a year into her widowhood, she had taken Ser Bonifer into her bed and had done so over and over again in the last years when she was feeling particularly melancholic.

It was a very unseemly behavior for a Queen, but she couldn’t help it.

 _Perhaps it was wrong of me to judge my daughter_ , she thought not for the first time, as she pressed her face against the window and stared down into the stormy sea. Her daughter had been born on such a day. _But the bastard knight might doom her reputation forever._

“You seem worried, your Grace.” the beloved voice of Ser Bonifer caused her to turn around. He had already put on his tunic and was now working on his boots. He was still a good-looking man for his age, but he was ever serious, much like her son Rhaegar. It was a notion she welcomed, for deep down she hoped that her son was not Aerys’ seed. “I had hoped the _good_ tidings from the North would ease your mind.”

“These are indeed _good_ tidings,” Rhaella said and pulled the bedding over her shoulder. Staring at the storm outside made her feel cold. “But I fear not everyone will see it the same way. Certain lords will not be pleased to hear about my grandson’s return.”

“They better be silent, these high lords,” Ser Bonifer said and lifted her hand to his lips. “But I am sure you will set them straight, your Grace.”

Rhealla chucked and pulled her hand away. Being like this made her feel almost like a young girl. “You have too much trust in me, good Ser. I am getting too old to set my children straight. Well, anyway, I we shall travel to King’s Landing on the morrow. I must speak with the King concerning my grandson’s return.”

“I shall make everything ready, your Grace,” Ser Bonifer assured her and lowered his head in reverence. “But please rest now. Your sickness has not fully abated. In fact, I think you should have the Maester examine you before we leave.”

“I have already done that yesterday,” Rhaella replied, but was touched by his concern. “He said I should keep drinking my teas. Well, he also said it will be good for me to be in a warmer climate.”

A ghost of a smile crossed Ser Bonifer’s lips.

“It pleases me to hear that, your Grace.”

It was still raining when she arrived in King’s Landing, but that was no surprise. It was in the middle of autumn and the cold would only change from the worse with the coming winter.

Even so, Rhaella longed for a hint of sunshine.

The swaying ship hadn’t helped either. She had never been one for sea travel and she had barely been able to keep down her food.

Now that she had firm ground beneath her feet again, she felt much better, though the sight of King’s Landing didn’t exactly fill her with enthusiasm.

It reminded her of the dark years with Aerys, but today was a happy day and she was bearing good tidings in her heart. Her grandson had returned and she was sure her son would be pleased, for it meant that Lady Lyanna and his daughter would soon return to King’s Landing.

Rhaella was also pleased by that prospect. She had suffered from her illness, but she had also been glad to return to Dragonstone to have some peace from all these tittering ladies.

When she saw Rhaegar he was greeting her with a seldom smile.

“Mother,” he said and offered his hand to her. He was accompanied by two men of the Kingsguard. There was Ser Barristan Selmy, who hadn’t changed one bit and was gracing her with a genial smile and Ser Gerold Hightower, who acknowledged her presence with a firm nod. “You look well. Welcome back to King’s Landing.”

“I am pleased to be back,” she lied, took in her son’s appearance and was pleased by what she saw. He looked as if he had finally gotten proper sleep, a seldom thing for a King. He was also smiling again, which only confirmed to her that her raven had reached him. “And I assume you have received the _good_ tidings from the North?”

Rhaegar nodded his head in confirmation and offered his arm to her.

“Not everyone has heard about it, though,” Rhaegar explained and led her away. “Aegon knows of course and Jon, but the rest of the court has only heard rumors. I do not want my lords coming here and pestering me with questions.”

“Understandable,” Rhaella said. “But Daenerys must hear of it. Is she here?”

“No,” Rhaegar said. “She has travelled to Summerhall with Viserys and Lady Ysilla.”

“I see,” Rhaella said and kept her thoughts to herself. This was not the place to discuss such matters and she was weary from the long travel. “Well, perhaps I will travel to Summerhall myself. I haven’t been there since it has been finished.”

Rhaegar smiled approvingly and patted her shoulder. “Please do as you think is best, mother.”

The rest of the evening Rhaella spent in company of her two handmaids, who helped her draw a bath and change into a more comfortable dress. When her hair was braided, she intended to eat in presence of Ser Bonifer, but Lady Roslin Frey came to her on behalf of Princess Shireen to invite her for supper, an invitation she could scarcely refuse, though she had wished for a night of privacy before she would return to the pit of vipers.

Thus, she changed back into her court attire and found herself being led to one of the many halls of the Red Keep.

Princess Shireen was also a pleasant surprise. It had been nearly half a year that Rhaella had last seen her, but it was true what they said. Marriage changed people and in case of Princess Shireen for the better.

Her smile seemed more confident and she was not looking on her slippers, as she dropped a quick curtsy.

“I am pleased to have you back, your Grace,” Princess Shireen replied softly and waved her hand at Lady Roslin, Lady Gwyneth Yronwood, Lady Myrcella Lannister, Lady Olenna Tyrell, Lady Margaery Tyrell with her babe and Lady Cersei Lannister. “I hope you don’t mind the company, but I thought it would be quite _boring_ if were just the two of us.”

Rhaella was surprised to have so much company, but she was even more surprised to see Aegon missing.

Still, she didn’t want to embarrass the girl and smiled warmly.

“Of course not. The _merrier_ the better. I have missed the company of others when I was recovering from my sickness.”

Princess Shireen beamed and led Rhaella to her seat at the head of the table. The cushion was soft, but the wooden seat made a creaking sound, as she sat down.

The room smelled of soap and lavender, as if it had been properly cleaned, which only confirmed what Rhaella had suspected. The precious girl had taken great care to prepare for her return.

“You did good work,” Rhaella praised Princess Shireen and smiled as she cast her sky over the assembled ladies. “And I am pleased to be back, my ladies. I am sure much has happened in my absence.”

Then, she turned to look at Lady Margaery, who was presenting her rather plump babe to everyone in the room. Rhaella had of course heard about the babe’s birth, a boy with a shock of golden hair and a round head. It was not hard to see that he resembled his father, but Lady Margaery didn’t seem to mind. Her smile was as bright as a star.

“Is that the _little_ Lord Lannister? Forgive me, what was his name again?”

Margaery grimaced and allowed the babe to wrap its fat fingers around her thumb. His nursemaid was not far, watching them from behind a silken drape. “Joffrey wants to name him Tywin, but I am not in favor of such a name. It sounds so _harsh_.”

Then, she lifted the child and showed around once more. “Does this sweet face look like a Tywin to you, your Grace? I think not.”

And as if little Lord Lannister agreed with his mother, he started to wail, his head turning red within the blink of a moment.

Even faster was the nursemaid, who was quick to bear her breast and to attend to the wailing babe.

“Take him to Lady Margaery’s chambers,” Lady Olenna grumbled when the nursemaid was about to sit down in one of the cushioned chairs. “By the look of it, he is soon going to wet himself and we know what a ruckus he likes to make whenever that happens.”

Lady Margery frowned at that.

“But…,” she began, but Lady Olenna wanted to hear none of it.

“No buts! I want to eat in peace!” the old woman snapped as fast as a whip and a moment later the babe was carried out of he room. Lady Margaery’ golden gaze followed the wailing babe. Rhaella’s heart ached for her, but that was only to expected. The first babe was always the dearest.

Once the babe was gone, Princess Shireen called for the servants, who were quick to serve the first dish, pumpkin soup with little pieces of roasted bread. The wine that accompanied the meal was Arbor Gold, sweet and fruity on the tongue.

“Tywin is a truly a _dreadful_ name,” Lady Olenna muttered to herself, as she touched her spoon into the soup. “But what can we do? The boy will one day be the heir to the Westerlands!”

Then, she flashed a serious glance at Lady Myrcella, Lady Roslin and Gwyneth Yronwood, who had been giggling softly amongst each other, as the Lady Olenna had made her opinion about little Lord Lannister’s name clear for everyone to hear.

Only Lady Cersei seemed to find the old woman’s words insulting. She was openly glaring at Lady Olenna while she was sipping from her cup of wine.

Rhaella didn’t know whether she wanted to laugh or to chide Lady Olenna, but then the old woman had always been rather blunt.

Not wanting to embarrass Princess Shireen she smiled at Lady Cersei.

“I assume you were very pleased with the name your son chose for your grandson, my Lady?”

Lady Cersei blinked and placed her cup back on the table.

“My father is a great lord,” Lady Cersei replied stiffly. “The name is fitting.”

“What name would you have preferred, Marge?” asked Lady Myrcella. “I suggested Tygett or Lann, but Joff never listens to anything I have to say, but Uncle Jaime made by far the best suggestion.”

“What was it?” Princess Shireen asked curiously. “The name Ser Jaime suggested.”

“Tyrion,” Myrcella replied after a moment of silence. “A fitting name. My Uncle is a clever man, despite his small stature.”

Everyone laughed, but Lady Cersei, who looked as if she was about to send her daughter to bed.

“Lady Cersei,” Rhaella said. She didn’t want any fighting during supper. “I must say I really like your dress. Is it made of samite?”

Lady Cersei didn’t seem appeased by the praise and forced a smile over her lips.

“It is samite,” she confirmed. “I can recommend you the seamstress who made it for me, your Grace.”

“She is masterful,” Lady Myrcella gushed. “She is already working on my wedding dress. I hope Gaemon will be pleased.”

“I am sure of it, my Lady,” Rhaella told the girl and bared her teeth. It was hard to believe that she would soon be wed to her grandson. “And I would be pleased if Lady Cersei introduced this marvelous seamstress to Lady Lyanna. She will have need of new dresses when she returns.”

Lady Cersei’s darkened even more.

“So it is true.”

“It is true,” Rhaella confirmed and knew very well what she was referring to. “My grandson lives, which means it is very likely Queen Lyanna will return soon.”

Silence reigned among the girls, but Lady Olenna was blunt as ever.

“And here we thought the girl had gotten lost in the North,” she muttered. “And what about the Princess? I heard she is going to be pledged to Lady Lysa’s son…What was his name again?”

“Robert…,” Shireen provided quickly. “After my late Uncle.”

Olenna lifted her gaze at that, her golden eyes piercing into Shireen.

“You have a lot of guts to mention his name. Well, I suppose your father’s lords are still thinking of him with wet eyes, but I tell you: nothing good would have come of that fool. He should have never rebelled.”

Rhaella felt for Shireen. The girl’s face was now incredibly pale, as if all blood had been drained out of it at once.

Rhaella knew what kind of words lay on her tongue, but Princess Shireen did the right thing.

Instead of speaking, she took a sip from her cup and smiled.

“My Uncle was a most _hot-headed_ man, my Lady,” Princess Shireen agreed and smiled. “But you are also right about another thing: many a lord in the Stormlands still loves him.”

“A diplomatic answer,” Lady Olenna conceded and much to Rhaella’s relief, the rest of the evening was rather pleasant. Lady Margaery entertained them with tales about her gruesome birth and Lady Cersei spent most of her time glaring at Lady Olenna, who was never shy to trade well-concealed insults with Lord Tywin’s proud daughter.

Still, Rhaella was more than pleased when the dessert had been served and she was allowed to return to her chambers.

To her surprise, Princess Shireen asked to accompany her and Rhaella couldn’t bring herself to refuse.

She sensed that the girl wished to speak with her.

“How may I help you, child?” Rhaella asked her after she had offered her a seat. “You look distraught.”

Princess Shireen sucked in a deep breath. “I am not distraught, but I thought you might be able to answer my questions regarding _certain_ matters.”

Rhaella chuckled. “ _Certain_ matters?”

“ _Certain_ matters, “ Shireen confirmed and brushed her hand over her skirt. “I mean _certain_ matters between a man and women, _certain_ matters I do not wish to speak about with my mother.”

Rhaella finally understood what she meant and searched the girl’s face.

“Is it about Aegon?”

“No, I think it is my fault,” Princess Shireen said, her blue eyes growing wide. “What I mean is…that Aegon is avoiding me.”

“Avoiding you?” Rhaella asked. “How so? Did he not… _consummate_ the marriage?”

Princess Shireen blushed.

“Oh, he…we did,” she assured her and her gaze darted to her slippers. “But ever since that night he has been avoiding me at every turn. I also don’t think one time is enough to provide an heir. I am just worried.”

Rhaella had never felt comfortable to speak about such matters, but the girl was obviously in need of her advice.

“Worried about what, my sweet?”

“That we will never have an heir,” Shireen said.

Rhaella couldn’t help but to chuckle.

“Oh, I don’t think you have to be afraid about that. Aegon knows that he has need of an heir, but you must be patient. Love comes with time.”

Shireen looked skeptical.

“I am not sure if Aegon will ever love me, your Grace.”

Rhaella was disheartened to hear that, but then nobody could force someone to love another person.

“Even so, Aegon knows his _duties_. He will seek you out. Just be patient.”

Shireen nodded her head in confirmation. “And is there no way to help matters along?”

Rhaella leaned over to pat her hand. “I fear not and if there is a way I was not trained in for it. Perhaps you ought to ask one of the other girls…Perhaps Lady Margaery. She is wed.”

“She is,” Shireen confirmed. “But she said that Joff has never avoided her bed.”

“And my daughter?” Rhaella asked. “Have you asked her?”

Shireen clutched her chest. “I could _never_. I don’t think she would want to talk about it.”

Rhaella was surprised to hear that. “Very well, then I suggest you ask _your_ mother.”

Shireen looked mortified by that notion and shook her head in disbelief.

“I think I will head your advice and be patient, your Grace.”

Rhaella expected to find some peace after Princess Shireen had left her, but not long after, Rhaegar came to join her.

He was quick to discard his cloak and his crown, another smile curling on his lips as he placed a kiss on her cheek.

“You look exhausted. Have your lords been pestering you?”

“Most of them know about the _good_ tidings, but are pretending to be ignorant of them, but it is only a matter of time before Mace and Tywin will make their appearance. I am already dreading it, but that mustn’t bother you, mother.”

“But it does bother me,” Rhaella said and leaned back in her chair. “Especially, when it concerns my grandson. I also wish to see my daughter properly wed and not fool around with bastard knights.”

Rhaegar leaned on his balled fist. “I do not know about that, mother, but I certainly intend to travel to the North as soon as possible. Lyanna mentioned something about a bargain my son made with the King-Beyond-the-Wall. I am thinking of making it an official visit. Alysanne’s betrothal to Lord Eddard’s nephew could serve as such an occasion, though I doubt the Northmen will be very welcoming towards me.”

“You can hardly expect that from them, but that is not important. Important is that my grandson is back and that you make peace with Eddard Stark. I sure hope, you are also intending to bring Daenerys?”

Rhaegar smiled. “Of course, but as you said…she is now fooling around with that bastard knight of hers. Mayhaps she is no longer interested in a marriage?”

“Oh, she will be interested,” Rhaella said with a frown. “If not then I will make her interested. This nonsense has been going on far too long.”

Rhaegar returned her frown. “And I think you should try being friendly with her. She had no easy life in the last three years. I do not wish to see her hurt.”

“If anything she has been hurting her reputation on her own,” Rhaella replied with a heavy sigh. “But then, you are not any better than her. Truly, it is hard to deny all the three of you have been born from my womb. All of my children have a tendency never do things the right way.”

Rhaegar chuckled and lifted his hands in defense. “I do not wish to fight with you, mother. Please do as you think is best.”

Rhaella was pleased to hear that. “Then, I shall leave for Summerhall as soon as possible. I am also eager to see my grandson. It has been so long.”

“He is a _precious_ boy,” Rhaegar agreed and grew strangely melancholic. “But he won’t have an easy life even if Aemon acknowledges him.”

“Aemon didn’t have an easy life either,” Rhaella pointed out. “And Aegon is a good man. He would never allow anyone to harm him.”

“Of course not,” Rhaegar replied. “But I cannot say what will happen once Aegon takes the crown. Perhaps, I was wrong to limit Aemon’s choices to Daenerys. Sometimes, I think that I appeased Elia’s family too much. At times, I feel that I should have found Aemon a more powerful match.”

Rhaella didn’t like the sound of that, but what he said was not wrong.

“It is too late for that now.”

“True,” Rhaegar replied and patted his leg. “But enough of this sad talk. We should be happy that Aemon is alive.”

“What about Aegon and Rhaenys?” Rhaella asked and decided to help Rhaegar with his intentions to change the topic. “Will you take them with you to Winterfell?”

“Someone needs to sit the Iron Throne in my absence and Aegon is eager to prove himself. Rhaenys is feeling sickly,” Rhaegar said. “And Gaemon _refused_ to go North. He told me so himself.”

Rhaella was distraught to here so. “I had hoped he would have forgotten his _grudge_ by now.”

“He will forget about his _grudge_ once he sees Lyanna and Alysanne again,” Rhaegar assured her. “I am sure of it.”

Rhaella hoped that was true. “Perhaps.”

Three days later, she departed for Summerhall. As expected, it was raining again, a common occurrence in these long autumn days. It would only get worse when winter came, but Rhaella decided she wouldn’t allow these rainy days to dim her mood. Aemon was finally coming home and she was longing to see her grandchildren.

Naerys must be nearly four now and Jacaerys she hadn’t seen in nearly half a year. He must be at least half a head taller by her reckoning. She knew how fast these little children grew…

The first thing she saw was the gleaming walls of Summerhall, so very different from the old Summerhall she recalled from her nightmares. The only similarity were the silver spiral towers that were supposed to resemble the towers in the paintings of ancient Valyria. Her father had once told her that these was intentional and Rhaegar must have picked up the design from one of Marwyn’s books. Not that Rhaella blamed her son for trying to recreate the old Summerhall, but it was still strange to come here, to this castle filled with Rhaella’s ghosts.

“It is beautiful,” Ser Bonifer remarked beside her, his voice muffled by the visor of his helmet. Her shawl slipping from her shoulders, as a sharp wind washed over her. It was one of these biting winds so common to the Stormlands, but Rhaella felt no cold. She felt alive and fresh, as if she was a decade longer or perhaps that was only Ser Bonifer’s smile resting on her that was the cause of her happiness.

“True,” Rhaella agreed and followed after her Captain of the Guards, up to the white castle with six spiral towers, glimmering like spears in the early morning light.

Yet, the sight of Viserys pleased her even more. She didn’t know why, but as the years had passed, Viserys had lost more and more of Aerys. His face had softened since he had been wed and whenever he was with Naerys, Rhaella saw nothing of Aerys in her son, besides the lilac eyes.

It was a true blessing.

“Welcome back, mother,” her son greeted her and offered his hand to her. “I have missed you.”

Rhaella and pulled her son to her breast before she looked around. The courtyard was empty safe for a handful of guardsman clad in the colors of House Targaryen.

“Where is Daenerys?”

“They are in the gardens,” Viserys was quick to inform her and took her arm. “Please let me show you the way, mother.”

He led her through a long corridor, down a pair of steps before leading her into a large green space that lay just below a large hill covered with thick blackwoods.

There she also found a large rectangular pool of water, made of marble stone and covered with lotus flowers and other greenery.

Rhaella gasped at the beauty of the fruit trees growing around the pool, for the last time she had been here these trees had been nothing but seeds in the earth.

Yet, she wasn’t afforded much time before the high squeal of a child caused her to turn around.

“Grandmother!” Naerys shouted at the top of her lungs and threw herself at Rhaella, wet and dirty as she was, but that was no surprise. Naerys knew no bounds when she was excited and her beaming face was worth it. “Grandmother!”

“My, you have grown,” Rhaella admired her granddaughter, as she brushed her hand through hair curly hair. It was coiled at her neck, but already in disarray and her bathing dress was sopping wet. She must have been swimming. “You are almost four now.”

“In four moons!” Naerys replied excitedly and brushed her dirty hands over Rhaella’s skirt. “Or was it six?”

Then, her gaze darted to her Lady Mother, who was seated beneath a green canopy. Daenerys was besides her, rubbing Jacaerys’ head with a cloth.

He was also smiling when Rhaella’ gaze fell on him. “Welcome back, grandmother.”

Rhaella could tell by the twitchy movements of her grandson that he was just as eager to meet her, but Daenerys kept him in place and scrubbed him dry until his hair was standing in all directions.

It was a sweet sight. “Now you may go to greet your grandmother, Jace.”

Her grandson didn’t waste another moment and bridged the distance, wrapping his small arms tightly around her arm.

“Do you recognize me grandmother? I have grown.”

“Of course,” Rhaella said and ruffled his hair. “You have grown indeed. You are a big boy.”

“I am big,” Jace said proudly and pointed at his mother. “Mother says that I will soon be allowed to have my own pony. I will be a knight like in the tales.”

“Sure you will be,” Rhaella chuckled and smiled at Daenerys. “I am sure your mother is right in that regard. You do look like you will make a great knight.”

“Jacaerys is afraid to sleep in the dark,” Naerys teased. “So, how can he be a knight? Knights are _supposed_ to be brave.”

“And you are a girl!” Jace was quick to snap back. “You cannot be a knight at all!”

“That’s not true!” Naerys shouted back, but was held back by her mother. “You are lying!”

“Sadly, it is true, sweetling,” Lady Ysilla replied and pulled on her arm. “And what did I say about shouting?”

Naerys pouted.

“Shouting is not something girls should do.”

“Good,” Ysilla replied and placed a kiss on her head. “Now you will go inside and ask Merelyn to dress you properly. And if you do it without any complaint you will even get a taste of one of these peaches. What do you say?”

Naerys seemed to have completely forgotten about her previous argument with Jace when she heard about the peaches. She was nodding her head eagerly and disappeared a moment later.

“That was not right of you to say,” Daenerys chided her son. “You ought to apologize when Naerys comes back.”

Jace gave his mother a confused look. “But it is true, mother. Girls _cannot_ be knights. Wouldn’t it be lying if I said girls could be knights?”

Daenerys sighed and pulled him closer. “No, it wouldn’t be lying. Naerys is still a little girl and little girls should be allowed to dream.”

Jace frowned. It reminded Rhaella of Rhaegar, but also of Aemon. It made her also wonder how much Aemon had changed.

“That makes no sense, mother,” Jace said and pulled himself free from her grip. Then, he smiled and stumbled back into Rhaella’s arms. “Grandmother, are you not sad that you didn’t get any cake from the wedding?”

Rhaella was not surprised to hear him speak about the cakes. It must have been a dream come true for a little child like him.

“Oh, that is no great pain for me, little one. I am so old I had enough cake to last for a lifetime.”

“Truly?” Jace asked in disbelief. “I didn’t think one can have enough cake.”

“Well, it would certainly be better for you,” Viserys said, who had observed their whole interaction with amusement. “Or you will get as fat as Tarly’s estranged son. Then you will never be a knight.”

Jace grimaced. “I won’t ever be fat. You are lying, Uncle.”

“Don’t listen to Viserys,” Daenerys said and pulled on his arm. “He is just trying to tease you and as often as Naerys is chasing you about you will never be fat. Still, it is not good for your teeth, which means only one cake per week.”

“I know,” Jace said in disappointment. “But I like fruits too. I think I will go and ask Martha to give me new clothing, but unlike Naerys I _can_ dress myself..”

Daenerys smiled approvingly and gave him a small push. “A good idea.”

“I think I shall go as well,” Lady Ysilla said and rose to her feet. “Naerys needs to be watched.”

Viserys chuckled and offered his arm to her, his lilac gaze resting on Rhaella. “I shall go as well, mother. I have matters to attend to, but I hope you are hungry. We have a fine meal prepared for you.”

Rhaella smiled.

“I thank you, Viserys.”

When they were gone, she shifted her attention back to Daenerys, whose’ smile had long faded.

“I am surprised you came all the way to Summerhall,” her daughter said and averted her gaze. “Did you come here to fight with me?”

Rhaella shook her head and pulled Rhaegar’s letter out of the vest of her cloak.

“No, but I bring _good_ tidings for you. This letter was given to me by Rhaegar. It is about Aemon.”

Daenerys’s head had snapped up faster than an arrow in flight.

“Aemon?”

“Aye,” Rhaella said and handed her the letter. “Take your time and read for yourself, sweetling. All I am saying is this: he is _alive_.”

With these last words, Rhaella left her daughter and went to settle into her chambers.

She had already bathed and changed into a fresh dress when the servant girl came to call her to supper.

And it was as a fine a meal as Viserys had promised, for soon they were breaking their fast on boiled ostrich eggs, sweet potatoes and iced milk. The dish was even better, soft cakes covered with sirup and whipped cream and accompanied by fresh fruits growing in Summerhall’s gardens.

Naerys and Jace loved it, but Daenerys spoke little and ate even less.

Rhaella had expected so much and was not surprised when Daenerys pulled her aside after the meal into one of the more seclusive chambers.

“How could you hide this from me all this time?” she asked, her violet eyes blinking dangerously. “The letter is dated nearly a moon ago.”

“I thought it best to tell you _personally_.”

Daenerys’ gaze softened a little. “I understand, but it is just…I never thought the day would come and now…now I don’t know what do.”

Rhaella shook her head in disbelief. “If you are my daughter you will do what is expected of you. You will send the bastard on his way and get married. You have a responsibility towards your son.”

Daenerys flushed cheeks were no surprise to her. “And you should stop acting so high and mighty, mother. Stop calling, my sworn sword like that. He may be born out of wedlock, but that makes him not any less than any other men in our service. You are the last person who should talk about such matters anyway, since you and Ser Bonifer have been involved for a long time, though you were always good at hiding it.”

Rhaella was taken back by Daenerys sharp words. It was worse than she had thought.

“And what will Aemon think of this?”

“Of what?” Daenerys asked angrily and dropped back in a chair, her arms crossed in front of her. “Me and Ser Aurane? Are you really that blind, mother? Do you really think I ever intended to keep him in my bed?”

Rhaella was confused. “I don’t understand….”

“Of course, you don’t. You didn’t understand either when you were sending these men after me. I just wanted to be left alone and that is why I ask him for help. Aurane was supposed to keep your unwanted suitors off my back.”

It sounded utterly ridiculous. “So you never…?”

“I like Aurane and certainly did things, but not as bad as you can think, mother. He is fine company, but he knows his place. Still, I made him my sworn and cannot simply send him away. He depends on me, especially after you dismissed him from your service.”

“People are already spreading rumors about him,” Rhaella insisted. “And Aemon might take it the wrong way.”

Daenerys exhaled deeply and shrugged her shoulders. “So much is true.”

“Perhaps Viserys could take him into his service,” Rhaella offered. “If Aemon comes back Rhaegar will have to find him other lands to rule.”

“And far away from me, isn’t that what you are trying to say, mother?” Daenerys asked, her voice laced with displeasure. “He may be a bit of a scoundrel, but he was always loyal to me.”

Rhaella sighed. “You will see how loyal he will be once you send him away. There is nothing worse than a spurned lover, sweetling.”

“I think I have heard enough,” Daenerys said, a weary smile crossing over her lips. “What about Aemon? When will he return?”

“Lyanna writes that Aemon needs time to recover. Rhaegar suggested travelling North, both to bring his family home and as a gesture of peace.”

Daenerys nodded her head and leaned back in the chair. “I shall go with him then…and Jace.”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Rhaella said. “Jacaerys knows nothing about Aemon. I think you should go alone and once Aemon comes south he can meet his son.”

Daenerys bit her lips in displeasure. “Perhaps it would be best if I speak with Aemon _alone_.”

…


	9. Robb

**Robb**

The morning was crisp and cold, as they set out to behead a criminal. He had supposedly raped a servant girl.

They were twenty in total: His father, his cousin Aemon, Rickon, Cley Cerwyn, Domeric Bolton and several more.

The man, a greasy-haired fellow with yellow teeth, had been brought forth to his father and had confessed to his crimes.

Domeric had suggested hanging him, but his father had been insistent on beheading him, as he had confessed to his crimes.

Robb was not surprised that Domeric held such views. The man belonged to his father’s household and his crime would taint House Bolton’s name further, a name Domeric had tried to improve in the last years. That he was hoping to wed his sister Sansa was another reason, a reason the young man would never openly admit to.

Sadly, it was not the heir of Roose Bolton, his sister dreamed of, but his cousin, who was seated on a black horse, his garb equally dark, safe for his red cloak. He had changed much from the solemn boy Robb had met upon his arrival in King’s Landing. He was now nearly half a head taller than Robb and his long face made him appear more a Stark than Robb. Only his straight nose, his full lips and his dark eye hinted at his kinship to the King. His lacking eye and the strange white streaks in his locks made him appear only stranger, but Sansa didn’t seem to care. The title _Prince_ seemed far too seductive for her to care about his appearance.

 _She will have a bad awaking_ , Robb knew. _For he knew his cousin’s heart. It belongs to the Silver Princess in the south._

The captive’s breath rose in swathes of white into the air, as he was forced to kneel and place his head on a wooden block.

His father looked older than his years, as he freed his blade. His hair was still brown, but his grey eyes were grim and his beard had long turned grey.

Questions were asked and answered, but Robb had partaken in this bloody ceremonies so often, that he could scarcely care. Finally, his Lord Father gave the command and the two guardsmen stepped aside.

His father’s blade glittered in the faint morning light, as he lifted it with all the strength he could muster.

The blade was made from Valyrian steel, spell-forged and dark as smoke. Robb had dreamed of wielding it himself, but now he did not envy his father for his task. It was not easy to behead a man, even if you had a Valyrian steel blade at hand.

“In the name of King Rhaegar of House Targaryen, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, by the word of Eddard Stark of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, I sentence you to die.”

Rickon’s pony squirmed beside Robb’s as the blade came down, but when he looked at his brother, he saw no hint of fear.

His brother hadn’t even flinched, but that was no surprise. Unlike Bran, Rickon had always been rather wild and was not afraid to get bloody.

The Greatjon was right when he had called him a _little wildling_.

Being distracted by Rickon’s pony, Robb hadn’t even seen how his father had taken off the man’s head with a single stroke, but now he saw the result.

A spray of blood had colored the maiden snow crimson.

It was getting only colder, as they made their way back to Winterfell. Robb rode beside Domeric and Aemon and Rickon rode before them. His pony had a hard time struggling through the snow, but his brother showed the poor animal no mercy. He kicked it hard to keep up with them.

“The man belonged to my brother’s group of friends,” Domeric remarked beside Robb. “They call themselves _the bastard boys_. Your father should have beheaded them all.”

“They were not caught,” Aemon said beside him, his dark hair flapping behind him like the wings of a raven. “But perhaps they will prove foolish enough in the future.”

“Ramsay is a monster, but he is not _foolish_ ,” Domeric said and kicked his feet in the sides of his horse. “How about a race to the bridge, my friends?”

Aemon’s only answer was a kick in the sides of his horse. Robb chuckled and did the same, Rickon’s curses ringing behind them, as his pony was not able to follow suit.

They reached the bridge soon enough, but something made Aemon stop half the way.

“What is it?” Robb asked, his breath rising into the sky like mist.

“A dead animal,” Domeric said beside him. It was a large wolf, that was littered with numerous arrows, a puddle of blood drenching the snow beneath the rotting corpse. “A wolf.”

“A direwolf,” Aemon said without hesitation and climbed from his horse, leading his animal through the waist-high snow. “How did _she_ get here I wonder?”

Robb was instantly fascinated and followed suit. He had pulled back his hood along the way and grinned when he inspected his cousin’s findings.

It was indeed a large wolf, but what was much more interesting were the pups nestling to the rotting body, as if they were hoping to escape the cold.

“A direwolf pup,” Robb said and noticed that Jory and Rickon had finally caught up with them. His father was also close at their heels.

“Get away from it!” Jory exclaimed, but Robb grinned.

“The she-wolf is dead…there are just the pups left.”

“There are six of them,” Aemon added and handed Rickon the first one. It was reddish and gave a mewling sound. “This one reminds me of _you_.”

Rickon stuck out his tongue and held up his own pup, all black and shaggy. “This one is mine. He looks _shaggy_.”

“There are four more,” Robb pointed and received two from Domeric, who was also carrying one pup. These two were female, so much Robb could tell, though he was no master of hunt.

“Here is another little she-wolf,” Aemon said. It had a light brown pelt and its eyes were a watery color. “This one reminds me of my sister.”

“And this one is _mine_ ,” Robb chuckled and watched, as Domeric showed him the last pup. This one was pale like snow and red-eyed. “This one looks a bit like a freak.”

Aemon gave a hoarse laugh and picked up the white-furred pup. A smile crossed his lips, as he stroked its head.

He gave a whimpering sound, but his cousin gave a delighted laugh.

“I think, this one is _mine_.”

“Well, I think this one is mine,” Robb said and received at one of the pups in his arms. “I think I will call him _Greywind_.”

“The mother is dead,” his father added solemnly. “I doubt they will live long without her milk. Killing them would be a mercy.”

“I disagree, Uncle, ” Aemon countered. “Goat milk should serve. The kennel master uses it to feed his dogs. Why should it not serve to feed these wolf pups?”

“They are born to the dead,” Harwin added, he was Hullen’s, the stablemaster’s son. “An ill omen.”

“Perhaps,” Aemon replied. “But if we refrain from doing something just because there is an ill omen, we wouldn’t be able to accomplish anything in life. I say, let us try to feed them, Uncle. If they do not take to it we can still kill them.”

His father sighed and brushed his hand over his faded beard.

“Very well, but I won’t hear any complaints if they die.”

He had looked at Rickon, as he had said this. “Is that understood?”

Rickon’s face was deeply flushed, as he grinned from one ear to the other.

“Understood!”

 _Ice_ was finally clean again.

Robb had watched half an hour, how his father had cleaned his blade beneath the weirwood tree.

The blood of the rapist was finally gone, but drips of blood still blemished the white snow beneath Robb’s feet.

He understood why his father liked coming here. The godswood helped calming one’s mind when one needed it the most.

And after executing a man, his father always needed a calm surrounding to find back to himself.

Robb had always been confused by this when he was a young boy, but now he understood.

Fighting someone in a mock fight was one thing, but taking a life another. Some men did it easily, but his father was not one of them.

He didn’t like killing.

Perhaps that was a paradox, but that was fine with Robb. He would never admit it openly to the other boys, but he didn’t like killing either.

In King’s Landing it had been different. Executing a man was almost a sport and the smallfolk would arrive in hordes to see it done.

It was sometimes even a greater spectacle than a tourney.

In truth, Robb had found it rather disgusting and he believed that his cousin Aemon shared his feelings in that matter.

“It’s finally clean,” his father said after a while and sighed deeply. A soft breeze was blowing through the canopy of the weirwood, making the leaves rustle. “I thought I would sit here for another hour.”

“This was a vile man,” Robb said and stepped closer. “Did this man really deserve such a fine death? Domeric told me what he had done to the girl.”

“Perhaps not,” his father said. “But if people do not always get what they deserve.”

“True,” Robb said and knelt down beside the weirwood, his hand brushing over the white bark. “Some of your bannerman say it is King Rhaegar who deserved shame and death for what he had done during the Rebellion.”

His father’s head had snapped up faster than an arrow.

He was staring back at Robb in silence, his mouth opening and his grip tightening on the hilt of his blade.

“They do not know the _full_ story,” his father explained. “And they hardly know the King. It is not as easy as simple they believe.”

“I know so much,” Robb agreed, though in truth he knew nothing. “And I do not think I have any right to judge my Aunt. She was always kind to me and the King loves her. You cannot deny it, father.”

“No,” his father agreed and pulled his cloak around his shoulders. “The King loves her, but love does not always bring good things.”

Robb had read such wisdoms in dusty books, but thought little of them. His father was an honorable man and he knew that it had been duty rather love that had made him marry his mother, but even so, Robb couldn’t help but to think that love seemed much more seductive than the word duty.

It was the same with honor. It sounded too high and mighty, an ideal no worldly creature could ever hope to achieve.

His father had also not told the whole truth. For he had fallen in love with his mother eventually.

“But you do love mother now,” Robb pointed out. “Sadly, not everyone can say the same. Tell me, father. Have you ever seen Lord Jon Arryn and Aunt Lysa together?”

His father gave him a perplexed look. “Why are you asking?”

“Because Aunt Lysa seemed to me the most miserable kind of person I have ever laid eyes on in my entire life. Jon Arryn was an honorable man and true, but it seemed that wasn’t enough to make her love him.”

His father gave a solemn nod, his dark grey eyes resting on him. “What are you trying to say?”

“Forgive me, father, but I think my impression of life is different than yours. I know we of the high nobility are supposed to wed for power and wealth, but isn’t life too short to waste it on someone you dislike?”

“Perhaps,” his father said and smiled. “Are you now referring to your Aunt or someone else?”

“Not specifically,” Robb replied and shrugged his shoulders. “I was just thinking about these things, especially since I have overheard you speak with mother about a betrothal for me, Sansa and Arya.”

Realization washed over his father’s face.

“You do not have to fret, my son,” his father said at last. “Your mother is just looking out for you, but nothing is settled. I am not interested in power and wealth. As long as you do not marry beneath your station, I shall be pleased to welcome any lady as your wife, be she from the south or the north. Have you someone in mind?”

Robb was speechless. No, there had been many a lady in the south that had met his eye, but he had not lost his heart like Harry had done to so many times.

He just wanted to know whether he would have a choice in the matter.

“What about Sansa and Arya?”

His father chuckled. “They will have the same choice, thought with those two it is far more complicated. Sansa is far too infatuated with the idea of a southron match and Arya would not wed at all if she had a say in it.”

“Domeric is a good man,” Robb pointed out. “Mother shouldn’t look down on him so much.”

“Sansa does,” Ned pointed out. “And your mother also wishes for a southron match. Truly, it will be a difficult decision to be made.”

“I doubt Alysanne will be happier either,” Robb pointed. “Robin is a difficult person and Aunt Lysa even more so. I hope the King will at least send one of the Kingsguard with her to the Vale. She will have need of it.”

“I rather think it will be the other way around,” his father said and searched his face once more. “And speaking of ladies. There have been several offers for you. There is for one Lady Alys Karstark and one for Lady Wylla Manderly, both fine ladies. Perhaps you would consider dancing when they are attending the King’s feast of honor.”

His father’s voice had darkened when he had mentioned the King’s name.

“You are not happy to have him here,” Robb said and watched as his father slid the blade back into its sheath. “Do you think your bannermen will be trouble?”

“Most of them will keep their mouths shut,” his father assured Robb. “But some might not be so polite.”

“Lord Bolton, Lady Dustin,” Robb replied. “The Greatjon will be happy as long as he gets his gallon of wine. The Smalljon too. And Lord Manderly will be pleased as long as you set out a large feast.”

“It is not just that what bothers me,” his father replied. “I am sure the King will wish to inspect the Wall. Some of my lords will not like that. They will say that the King is putting his nose into matters he doesn’t understand. Lady Mormont on the other hand will be pleased. She says no maid on Bear Island can live without fearing for her maidenhead. The wildling attacks have become more heated.”

“What about Aemon’s promise?”

“Even worse. Who knows what this Mance true motivations are?”

“True,” Robb and nodded his head. “Does that mean you think there will be a war? And if so, will you ride for the Wall?”

“I suppose so. The Wall and the Night’s Watch are still in a poor state, despite the King’s efforts. It might be the only solution for our problem.”

“And the King? Do you think he will bring men for the Wall?”

“Perhaps,” his father said and gave Robb a seldom smile. “That might even please my lords and earn their friendship.”

“I think you are being too optimistic there, father,” Robb chuckled in amusement. “I have only spent half my life in the North, but most of your lords think of the King as lowly as of a wilding stealing a bride.”

“He did steal Robert’s bride,” his father said, his voice laced with sadness. “But my bannermen never understood that Lyanna was not some goat to be traded. My father didn’t understand that either and it cost him his life. Perhaps if he had allowed Lyanna more freedom and allowed her to get accustomed to Robert instead of forcing the betrothal, she might have warmed up to the idea. And that is exactly why I shan’t force you or your sisters. I do not want the same conundrum for my own children, for I do agree with you Robb: Live is indeed too short to be miserable. Still, there are certain duties we all must carry. Your Aunt married for love, but she will always carry the guilt of father’s and Brandon’s deaths.”

“I do not think it is right to have her carry that burden alone,” Robbs said. “The war was caused by many a man’s folly, most of all the Mad King.”

“Perhaps,” his father granted him and patted his shoulder one last time before he pulled himself up to his full height. Robb was now nearly as tall as his father, but he still felt young like a pup, like the pups they had found this very morning. “But as I said…things are never as black and white as they seem.”

With these words, Robb had left his father to seek out the pups they had saved.

As expected, he found half his family assembled in the stable, much to Hullen’s displeasure.

“What will you call yours?” Arya asked Sansa, who was brushing the fur of her chosen pup with a brush.

“Lady.”

Arya gave her a look of disbelief and clutched her put to her chest. “What a boring name.”

“Well, then let’s hear the name of your pup?” his Aunt asked in amusement. She had been even more excited about them than Robb’s siblings.

“Nymeria!” Arya announced proudly. “For the Queen of the Rhoynar!”

“A Dornish name,” Aemon mused and held his pup in his lap. His was the strangest of them all, its fur white like snow and its eyes red like rubies. “A good name.”

“What is yours called, brother?” Alysanne asked sweetly, as she lifted the reddish pup. It had immediately taken to his cousin and always seeking her warmth. His cousin seemed equally happy to have it, for she was smiling more than ever.

“ _Ghost_ ,” Aemon replied. “He looks like one.”

“True,” Alysanne replied and brushed her hand over her pup’s head. “He does indeed look like a _Ghost_.”

“What about _yours_?” Rickon asked and eyed the pup on her lap. “Have you decided on a name for her?”

Alysanne gave him a perplexed look.

“Mine? I thought…,” she stuttered. “You would give her to me?”

“There were three females and three male ones. You should have one I think.”

“What about Bran?” Aemon asked. “I was thinking of giving him mine.”

“Bran’s future is in the south,” Robb explained. “He will most likely be the Lord of Riverrun and we cannot send this pup by raven to the Riverlands. I also do not think a direwolf belongs to the south.”

“He will still be pissed,” Arya pointed out. “That is for sure.”

“There you are, brother,” Robb said when he noticed Rickon’s presence. He had been drilling the guards in company of Ser Roderik when word had reached them of the King’s coming and now they were busy clearing the yard. “Are you done with your work?”

Rickon looked dirty as always, his cheeks flushed as he went to inspect Ser Arthur’s amor. It was polished like a looking glass and the cloak was white as snow. Rickon had done even better work with the shield, but looked strangely.

Only in this moment, did his little brother realize that the owner this piece of armor was watching him with amusement.

“You did good work with the armor,” Ser Arthur said and stepped closer. He was only garbed in a tunic, his breeches and boots, his silver hair pulled back from his face. “But the helmet looks as if you cleaned it over breakfast. I found pieces of butter on it.”

Rickon blushed and dipped “I was hungry, good ser.”

An amused laugh spilled from Ser Arthur’s mouth and he knelt down to brush his hand through Rickon’s red locks.

“No surprise there,” he said and grinned. “You must have been laboring for hours. No wonder you were hungry, but next time just make a break to eat properly. I have no use for a hungry squire.”

Rickon’s face lightened up immediately, though that was only the beginning of a long path. The life of a squire was not easy and even his wild little brother would see that soon. Even Bran’s letters have become less enthusiastic since he had gone to live in the Riverlands nearly a year ago.

Rickon had been most distraught by his absence and had spent more time with his direwolf than with them. Eventually, their mother had approached Ser Arthur and asked whether it would be feasible to take the boy as a squire. Robb hadn’t been there to hear Ser Arthur’s answer, but even if he had refused, he was sure that his Aunt had convinced him otherwise.

“I shall keep that in mind, good Ser,” his brother replied, which tore chuckles from the assembled men. There was Ser Roderik, Farlen and Tom, two guardsmen and Robb’s friends Domeric Bolton and Cley Cerwyn. “First eating then cleaning.”

Ser Arthur nodded his head and pointed at the armor. “And now help me get ready. I need to greet my King.”

Rickon was quick to attend to Ser Arthur and helped him put on his armor while Robb and the others put away the weapons and shields.

Then, Robb dismissed them and watched until his brother and Ser Arthur were done.

It was amusing to behold his brother fumble his way through every piece of armor, but then Robb had also been there once. As a young boy he had often played the role of a squire for a lord or two.

“Well done,” Robb said once Rickon was done. “But now Ser Arthur must excuse you. I think you have need of some washing up, little brother.”

Rickon frowned. “Must I, Robb?”

“You must, little lord,” Ser Arthur agreed with Robb. “And a squire should always follow his lord’s example.”

This finally convinced Rickon. “As you wish, Ser Arthur.”

It took longer than expected to brush his brother’s face, but he knew his mother would thank Robb for it. Both she and father had been busy with preparations and there were also the rumors about the wildlings raising an army beyond the Wall his cousin had brought him. It had both upset his father and his lords, but the King’s visit here made the situation only tenser. Still, Robb understood why he was coming. His son had returned from sure death after three years of absence.

It was a true miracle, though Robb couldn’t help but to notice how much his cousin had changed in these last three years. He was even more withdrawn than usual and rarely smiled if he was not in the presence of his mother and sister. He hadn’t even recalled Robb when he had seen him, but in the last weeks his memories were returning to him.

That Arya was always dragging their cousin outside probably helped, but it often led to fights with Sansa, who always insisted on staying close to him.

“How do I look?” he asked Robb.

“Like yourself,” Robb complained and smoothed his red hair. “And now come. I think we have some time left. Let’s take a look at the girls.”

They walked along the corridor and found Arya and Sansa bickering over something he didn’t want to be part of. His mother was also there beside his Aunt Lyanna. She was garbed in a red-and-blue striped gown, her red hair arranged atop her head in delicate braids. His Aunt looked almost plain compared to her. She wore a simple grey dress and her dark brown hair was open safe for two braids that were wound behind her head and a beautiful winter rose tucked behind her ear.

It made him wonder where Alysanne had disappeared to, for she was usually never far away from his Aunt.

As they passed, his Aunt called after them.

“Robb, Rickon,” she said and smiled. “Have you seen Alys and her pup?”

Robb exchanged a quiet look with Rickon who knew the answer at once. “I think I know where she went.”

Their Aunt nodded her head. “Well, would you get her?”

“I can do it!” Rickon exclaimed happily and rushed away. “I know where she likes going!”

Robb was not surprise and threw a quick smile at his Aunt, as he followed after his brother.

“I shall make sure they find their way back, Aunt Lyanna.”

Rickon was quick to climb up the steps, his voice ringing bright and loud.

“Alys! Alys!”

No answer came an even when they had reached the battlements she didn’t react, her back was still turned to them and her eyes were fixed on the birds circling up in the sky.

“Alys!” Rickon screamed once more and touched her shoulder. “What is up?”

“Nothing,” the girl replied quietly and turned around. She wore a grey dress like her mother, but her brown hair was kept in a long tight braid. “I am here. What do you want?”

“Your father is coming,” Rickon told her and pulled on her long sleeves.

Alysanne smiled and leaned over to pat her pups head. His name was _Caraxes_ and he was always quiet, like his owner. “I know. We should join the other. They are almost here…look for yourself.”

Robb noticed that what his cousin had said was true.

Far off, in the distance he saw the King’s party, a long column of riders whipping banners of red-and-gold and their armor shining brightly in the sunlight.

They were marching along the muddy path that was the King’s Road and would be here soon, but that didn’t answer his question.

How did Alysanne know about them? She was blind.

“It’s true! Rickon exclaimed and rose unto his toes. “I can see them! There are so many!”

“True,” Robb said and nodded his head, as he came to stand beside his cousin, his hand brushing over her arm to make his presence known to her. “We should go, dear cousin. Your brother and mother will expect you to join them.”

“Aemon is not even there yet. He went to the godswood,” Alysanne told him with a knowing smile and held unto his arm. “But you are right. We should go. I long to see my father.”

Robb didn’t’ know what to say to that, but decided to keep his mouth shut.

Everyone had already assembled when the King’s party came riding into the courtyard, flying banners of black and red.

The two men riding on the front he recognized at once. It was Ser Barristan Selmy, his pale blue eyes shining through the slits of his helmet and Ser Jaime Lannister, whose visor was up, revealing a handsome face that showed no smile.

It seemed he was not very pleased to be here, but that was no surprise to Robb. The people from the south were not friends of the cold.

Next arrived the King. Robb recognized Daenerys at once by her silver hair that was visible beneath her furred cap.

With her were two girls.

The first one was a stranger to him. She was short and had a very pale, heart-shaped face. She was trembling, as she climbed from her horse. The second girl he had recognized by her horse, a fine Dornish stead.

Yet, Allyria Dayne’s loveliness was beyond anything he recalled.

She was tall like a willow, her well-formed body hidden beneath a silken dress in the Dornish fashion, fitting well to her form, but revealing nothing. Yet the prettiest feature of her were her eyes, a dark violet color.

In that moment Robb felt, as if he had been hit by thunder.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No whining about the Sansa infatuation. I hinted at it in the first part, but Aemon has no interest in her. I will use the rejection as a way to develope her character. 
> 
> Next up: Aemon


	10. Aemon

**Aemon**

He felt the cold wind washing over him when he saw his father’s men pour through the gates in colors of black and red and white.

Fresh snowflakes were falling from the sky and melting in Alysanne’s hair, as he searched for their father and other familiar faces.

It had been nearly a moon, that he had regained his memories, the memories of a life he had thought lost. For three years, he had lived the life of another, a certain Jon Snow, a man of the Night’s Watch.

The thought alone was enough to rouse his nightmares from the dark confines of his mind.

At times, he was still falling back into old habits and didn’t know who he was.

Was he Prince Aemon Targaryen or Jon Snow? The memories of both these men were slowly blurring together to form his current self.

He had even gone to the weirwood again, hoping Bloodraven would answer him, but he had remained silent. Even Alysanne hadn’t been able to find out anything from the ravens.

It was pointless endeavour, Aemon knew. Bloodraven wouldn’t answer him until he wished to so.

Yet, all these thoughts were vanquished from his mind when he saw how much his father had changed.

Most who knew his father would have called him a handsome man, but when he looked at him he was shocked how aged and drained he looked. His even-shaped face was creased with worry and his cheeks pale as glass. The dark circles beneath his eyes only added to his usually somber demeanor.

Only when he laid eyes on his mother, who had been standing beside Aemon, did a hint of a smile cross over his pale lips.

“You look well, Lyanna,” his father said and opened his arms wide. His mother didn’t hesitate to embrace him, but there were no further displays of affection. Aemon had a feeling why.

Instead his father’s flickered to Aemon and to Alysanne, who had put on her finest dress, dark-blue and made of fine silk.

She looked almost like a woman grown now, but to Aemon she was still the young girl he had left almost three years ago.

It felt as if time had gone by within the blink of a moment.

“You have grown at least another head, sweetling,” his father said and touched his sister’s shoulder to pull her closer. She rose to her tip toes and kissed his cheek, soft laughter spilling from her lips.

Then, she looked back at Aemon, who had been standing there the entire to be lost and confused.

He had his memories back, but sometimes he still felt almost as if he was living the life of another man.

“Aemon has grown even more,” Alysanne whispered. “And he has to tell you something important.”

“Is that so?” another, more familiar voice asked. Aemon hadn’t even noticed her among the crowd, but when his gaze fell upon her silver hair and violet eyes, his heart skipped a beat. When he noticed his mother’s smile, he knew that she had intentionally kept this piece of information from him..

Yet, he couldn’t even bring himself to be angry when Daenerys smiled at him, though she too had much changed from the mischievous girl he had known.

She had much of his grandmother, especially the violet eyes and the long silver hair, but her features had sharpened and her build was more athletic.

She had also grown at least by half a head and other attributes…

The thought was unseemly, but then he couldn’t help it.

He had those memories of her and since he had returned to Winterfell these desires surfaced very regularly.

“Aye,” was all Aemon managed to reply in return. It felt almost as if the cold had frozen his tongue. “Aye.”

Daenerys said nothing, a side smile shining across her face, as she bridged the distance, one hand clutching at her velvet cloak and the other hand holding unto her fluttering skirts. A heartbeat later, they found themselves sprawled on the ground, Dany clutching unto his tunic.

Her laugh was hoarse and distant to his ears, but there was also joy.

“It’s really you, isn’t it?”

Relief washed over him, as he held unto her shoulders and grinned.

He was lost in this moment and it was his cousin Arya who called him back to the present moment.

“You ought to get up from the snow, coz,” Arya said. “Or you will freeze off your balls.”

“Arya!” Aemon heard Sansa’s shriek of despair, but when his father’s soft chuckle rang over the courtyard, the tension dispersed.

“It is quite alright,” his father said and eyed Arya curiously before his gaze wandered back to Dany and Aemon, who had by then risen back to their feet and were now being watched by everyone. “I do not mind a blunt tongue. My wife is of a similar nature.”

Then, his father shifted his attention to Lord Eddard, who was watching everything with a solemn expression on his face.

“I am thankful for your kind welcome, my Lord and Lady.”

Lady Catelyn was more enthusiastic and smiled at her father, though Aemon knew her true feelings.

_He took her father’s head._

“You are welcome, your Grace,” his Uncle replied.

“We are pleased to have you here,” Lady Catelyn added dropped a curtsy. “It is an honor.”

“No, it is my honor,” his father replied and jerked his head at Daenerys. “May I introduce my sister, Princess Daenerys. This is after all the first time you meet, my Lord.”

Aemon stayed close to Daenerys and was about to introduce his siblings, but Lord Eddard proved faster.

“You know Robb, I think. These two beauties are my daughters, Sansa and Arya. And the wild boy hiding away with his wolf is Rickon. Brandon, my second-youngest, serves as a squire in Riverrun.”

Daenerys returned the greeting with kind words and well-practiced manners. Robb did the same, kissing her hand and complimenting her dress. They laughed over some shared past incident and Sansa dropped a perfect curtsy, though she seemed strangely tight-lipped today. Only Arya and Rickon were open-hearted as ever. Arya asked whether Daenerys if she had a sword and Rickon told her about Shaggy, his wolf and that he was now a squire for Arthur.

“Is it true?” his father asked Arthur, who had watched the whole exchange with obvious amusement.

“It is true,” Arthur said and shrugged his shoulders. “I had no choice. The lad here pestered me until I gave in.”

His father chuckled drily. “It is good to see that North has not changed you.”

“Rickon will surely make a good squire,” Lyanna said with amusement and chuckled when Arya’s wolf came to nuzzle her legs.

“Nym! Nym!” Arya exclaimed and pulled on the wolf’s neck. “I told you not to come here!

Yet, soon she was not the only wolf pup to join them. There was also Alysanne’s wolf and of course Rickon’s wolf. They were nothing but small pups, but they seemed excited by the presence of their guests.

“Shaggy just wants to play,” Rickon assured the King with a grin. “He is not going to eat you, your Grace.”

His father nodded his head when he leaned down to touch the direwolf pup, but the Shaggy was faster and was soon rushing back into Rickon’s arms, who found himself crushed unto the ground, he pup’s tongue brushing over his frozen cheeks.

“And Nym usually behaves,” Arya defended her pup. “She just wants to play when she gets bored.”

His father nodded his head and even smiled when Nym and _Caraxes_ , were licking his hand.

“ _Caraxes_ is were obedient, father,” Alysanne added softly.

“ _Caraxes_ ,” his father said. “a good name.”

“Not as fitting as Arya’s,” Alys complimented and received a proud smile in return. “Nymeria is named after a real princess.”

“I noticed so much,” his father said. “The warrior queen I presume?”

“Aye!” Arya piped out loudly while Robb was stifling his laughter. Sansa and her mother looked mortified, but then Aemon doubted his father minded. He had a melancholic character, but he was not easily insulted, especially not by the tongue of a young girl like his cousin. “She is strong and fast and she might become a warrior one day! We will have to wait and see!”

Everyone laughed.

His father most of all.

“That is good to hear.”

More pleasantries were exchanged before Lady Catelyn spoke.

“Perhaps it would be a good idea to settle in. There shall also be a feast tonight.”

Dany was quick to take up Lady Stark’s offer and her ladies seemed just as pleased to follow suit. Especially, Lady Jeyne Westerling and Lady Allyria Dayne looked as if they were about to freeze to death, despite the thick furs wrapped around their shoulders. Only in the last moment, did Daenerys look back at him, her violet eyes beckoning him to follow, but when Aemon recognized how uncomfortable his mother seemed, he stayed behind. He also needed to speak to his father.

Not long after, Dany left, escorted by Sansa, Arya and the rest of the girls of Winterfell and of course Lady Stark. The rest of the Kingsguard, among them Ser Jaime Lannister, Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Gerold Hightower followed suit as well.

Yet, his mother and father lingered on, more snowflakes whirling from the sky.

“Lord Stark,” his father said. “Would you permit me to visit the crypts?”

His Uncle nodded his head in agreement, but Aemon read hesitation.

“You are welcome, your Grace.”

His mother exhaled in relief and Aemon was quick to add his voice.

“I wish to go as well. We can speak in there in _private_.”

“A good idea,” his father said approvingly and touched his shoulder. “There is indeed much we need to talk about.”

Then, his father shifted his attention to his mother. “Will you accompany us, love?”

His mother shook her head. “I shall go with the children.”

The dead eyes of the Kings and Lords of Winterfell followed after them, as they descended into the darkness of the crypts. Luckily, his Uncle and Aemon were carrying each a latern, casting shadows against the walls.

They were long and fearsome to behold, but Aemon had seen much more terrifying things beyond the Wall to be afraid of shadows.

He had seen death.

And while this chilly crypt didn’t scare him, but the same couldn’t be said about his father.

He looked very uncomfortable, as he took one step after another, mindful that he didn’t hurt himself.

His Uncle looked equally uncomfortable.

Now and then, they exchanged a quiet look, as they continued their descent along crumbling statues.

At last, they reached the place they were searching for, the tombs of his grandfather Rickard and his Uncle Brandon. One had been burned alive and the other strangled to death by the Mad King’s command.

It was a gruesome fate they had suffered and while Aemon felt sadness, he felt even more sadness that this matter would always stand between these two men and burden his mother with guilt.

This angered him as well. His mother had been a foolish girl, but to make her bear that burden till the end of her days was wrong.

 _Still, that won’t help you, grandfather_ , Jon thought, as he eyed the statue of the long-faced man in front of him. He looked ever serious, just as Aemon recalled him to look since he had first come here in company of his Uncle.

That felt almost like a lifetime ago, though it had been only three years.

Three years, that had been stolen from him by Bloodraven.

Aemon felt fresh anger rising up inside him whenever he thought of Bloodraven, but he was soon enough distracted when his father spoke.

“They have not changed,” his father said solemnly. “These halls, I mean.”

“Indeed, your Grace,” his Uncle Lord Eddard said. “But I doubt that is the reason you brought me here, your Grace?”

“No, indeed that is not the reason I asked you to come here. The first reason was of course to give my respects and the second reason is this unpleasant matter of the King-Beyond-the Wall.”

His father’s dark eyes had searched his when he had said this. They looked sad as ever, as if he was afraid to speak to address this matter.

“What does he want?”

Aemon sucked in a deep breath and pondered how he would break these news to his father in the most appropriate manner.

“Has mother relayed to you what happened to me beyond the Wall?”

“Sparsely,” his father said. “But I have heard enough about your misfortune from one of your travelling companions. His name is Will and he is alive and at the Wall. Maester Aemon keeps him as a steward.”

Aemon was shocked to hear that name.

“I am glad he is alive,” he said and looked first at his Uncle and then at his father. “Well, I saw _them_. The Others and many more things I wished I never saw. They nearly killed me if it wasn’t for this strange man, this Bloodraven. He resides in a cave beyond the Wall with his servants, the Children of the Forest and he kept me there to teach me things. Well, eventually he sent me on an errant. At first, I didn’t know what it was about, but then I met _them_ …these group of Wildlings. They brought me before their King and he made a bargain with me. I offered to speak on his behalf if he allowed me to go free, but he asked of me a token of loyalty. He asked of me the sword _Dark Sister_ , Bloodraven’s departure gift.”

His father had not said much throughout his tale, but now he was looking at Aemon.

There was a sense of kinship there, but as always it was hard for him to read what his father was thinking.

“I believe you,” his father said at last and looked over to his Uncle. “What do you think Lord Stark?”

“That trusting Wildlings is a dangerous thing to do,” his Uncle warned. “But you gave a vow, nephew. I understand that you are trying to honor it.”

“It is not just about that,” Aemon said and shook his head. “These Wildlings, they are not much different than us. There are thousands of woman and children gathering to march south, fleeing from the same enemy. The Others. I cannot say that I trust this Mance Ryder, but he seems honest in his wish to protect his people. I know this goes against everything you know and certainly doesn’t lessen the crimes of the Wildlings who rape and pillage your lands, but these children and women are as innocent as ours and if they die, may the gods protect us, they will join the army of the Others.”

His Uncle looked horrified.

“Join his army?”

“I told you, Uncle. The Others use the dead as servants to do his bidding.”

“I know,” his Uncle said and averted his gaze. “But it is hard to believe.”

“I understand that,” his father said at last and sucked in a deep breath. “Which is why I locked this secret deep in my heart for a long time. Prey, tell me, Lord Stark, have you ever heard of the Prince that was Promised?”

His Uncle gave a brief nod.

“I have never heard of this Prince. Is he from a tale?”

“A prophecy,” his father explained and Aemon braced himself for his Uncle’s reaction. “The reason my grandfather King Jaehaerys forced my mother and father to marry. A woodswitch prophesied that a Prince would be born from _his_ line that would bring back eternal spring.”

His Uncle was silent and looked confused, but Aemon didn’t hesitate to add his voice.

“Bloodraven also spoke of such things as well,” Aemon said. “Whatever the reason, I think I was meant to see these Others and here I am, alive and with valuable information how to fight them. Saving the Wildlings is only one measure we must take, but my most important piece of knowledge is this: Valyrian Steel can kill these Others. I myself killed one with _Dark Sister_.”

“You mentioned this before,” his Uncle said and brushed his hand over his beard. “And I do believe you.”

“But you are not happy about my plans, are you, Uncle?”

“I am not the one who will be disliked for these measures you want to take. And I cannot imagine that your father’s subjects will be any happier if you bring Wildings south. How will we feed them? It is an impossible task you lay before us, nephew.”

“Well, “ his father said and started to pace up and down the narrow path, the light flickering, as he moved. “We don’t have to make any promises yet. I think it would be better if I first speak with this Mance Ryder. Then, I can start making promises. And more important, I think we should keep your lords ignorant of this meeting until we know more, Lord Stark.”

His Uncle nodded his head in understanding. “A wise idea. I assume you plan to travel to the Wall as soon as possible?”

“I do,” his father confirmed. “I also hoped you might be inclined to send some loyal man with me to accompany me. I had hoped your brother Benjen could serve. I shall also take one loyal man of the Kingsguard and my guard with me.”

Aemon was not surprised, though he doubted his mother would like the idea. She had been so pleased to have him back and now he was seeing them leave gain.

It only strengthened his determination, though it would mean to leave Daenerys and his mother once more.

“I shall accompany you as well, father.”

His father said nothing for a long time before he started to shake his head.

“You cannot. Your mother won’t accept it and I shall not endanger your life again.”

Aemon felt, as if his father had slapped him over the face, anger and pride quarreling for dominance inside him.

“I am no little boy, father. I know this enemy better than you. You need me.”

His father shook his head.

“I know that, but I cannot take you with me. You have your duties to attend to. When all is settled in the North, I want you to travel south and join your brother Aegon. He sits the Iron Throne in my absence and will have need of your council and friendship.”

“Is that a command?”

“Aye,” his father confirmed at last and looked at Lord Stark, who had listened to their exchange in silence. “This is a command.”

“I agree with the King,” his Uncle agreed, much to Aemon’s displeasure. “You should stay behind. Your mother has been waiting for you three long years. You owe her that, my boy.”

Aemon balled his fist in anger.

“I know my duties, but I think you are not aware of the danger!”

“I do understand it,” his father said calmly, but there was an edge to his voice, this iron tone, that told Aemon that the discussion was at an end. “This is my last word in this matter: You will travel south and join Aegon.”

Aemon decided to swallow his pride and lowered his head in acceptance.

“I think we should discuss this matter in private, your Grace. Perhaps you would join us on the morrow. I shall also bring Benjen and find out whether he would be inclined to accompany us to the Wall.”

His father smiled.

“I am thankful for this kind offer. I shall join you on the morrow, but now we should join the others.”

As they were walking, father looked at Aemon. He looked so very sad. “Do not let Daenerys wait.”

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Dany


	11. Daenerys

**Daenerys**

“I heard the King and Prince Aemon were fighting…,” Jeyne Westerling trailed off. She was Dany’s ears and eyes, despite her shy nature, not only in King’s Landing, but also here in Winterfell.

She had spoken in a low voice, mindful of the servants that could hear them. It was not necessary, but an old habit that was hard to get rid of.

“Why?” Allyria Dayne asked bluntly as ever. “Shouldn’t they be happy to be reunited?”

“It wasn’t about that,” Jeyne explained and continued to brush Dany’s hair. “I think it had something to do with this King-Beyond-the-Wall. I think the King plans to meet with him and travel there…”

“The Wall?” Allyria asked in utter disbelief. “Why would anyone want to go there? Isn’t it bad enough that Prince Aemon led Ser Oswell to his death. I hope the King keeps my Uncle out of this. He is too young to freeze to death.”

“Lyra,” Dany said in a chiding tone and shook her head. “My brother is still the King.”

“King or not,” Allyria said in displeasure and played with the silken shawl she had wrapped around her shoulder. Her dress was even shinier, which suited her haunting violet eyes. “I do not want to see my Uncle die now that he can finally go home after three years in this place.”

Dany heard the displeasure in her voice, but she had the feeling her friend was angry about something else.

No wonder.

For Allyria must be strange to come here, a family she hardly knew.

It also made Dany wonder if Lord Stark was aware of Allyria’s parentage.

Not that Dany would ever dare to bring it up. Dany wanted no quarrels when she had come here to make peace with her past and reunite with Aemon.

Aemon. He had changed so much from the boy she had known, but then she had only spoken to him briefly. Too many eyes had been set on them in that moment, as they had been reunited in the courtyard of Winterfell.

Dany’s heart was still racing when she thought of their reunion, both out of fear and excitement.

It made her feel more like the carefree girl she had once been before she had birthed her son. Not that she regretted having her boy, but at times she had felt overwhelmed by everything.

Truly, it was not Aemon’s fault, for neither Dany nor he had expected such a surprise, but it was her that had been left to deal with the consequences.

 _You must marry_ , her mother had told her upon her departure. _The sooner the better. And the bastard knight of yours shall serve Viserys from now on._

With bastard knight his mother had meant Aurane, whom she had been forced to dismiss from her service. Dany had done so with a heavy heart, for it had been her plotting that had cost him his previous position. He had been angry with her after she had told him about his dismissal, but now was not the time to think about _this_ matter, but about the _future_.

“If it helps you, Lyra,” Dany said at last and smiled at her friend. “I could speak with my brother. I am sure he can be convinced to take someone lese with him instead of Ser Arthur.”

“I am not so sure,” Allyria said and sighed. “And I don’t want any attention.”

“Well, you have already aroused someone’s attention,” Jeyne said softly. She blushed, which meant it was about a boy. “But I see you haven’t noticed it yet.”

Allyria gave Jeyne a confused look. “Who?”

“The Stark heir,” Jeyne said and smiled dreamily, as she clutched her chest with her hands. “He is a dream come true…so tall and his red locks…it reminds me of the leaves of the weirwood.”

“Leaves of the weirwood?” Allyria asked in a startled tone. “Have you lost your mind?”

“No,” Jeyne said and grinned. “I am just jealous of you. Nobody would ever notice me, especially not a high lord.”

 _Especially, because she is as poor as a Septa_ , Dany thought, but kept these thoughts locked deep in her heart. _As Cersei Lannister would say._

Truly, Dany had known many a woman at court that frustrated her, but Cersei Lannister was the worst. She had also heard about the rumors she had been spreading about her.

 _The whore of the Red Keep_ , Cersei’s servants had called Dany. _And the little bastard dragon._

Dany had of course ignored the woman’s needling, but the fact that her daughter would soon be wed to Prince Gaemon had made her only bolder. That Gaemon had taken a strange liking to the Lannisters made it only worse, though he never partook in their treatment towards Dany.

She doubted he was even aware of Cersei’s actions and it was hard to prove what was happening behind closed doors.

On top of that, Dany was far too proud to go begging to her mother for help, especially since they didn’t have the most pleasant relationship since her entanglement with Aurane.

And perhaps her mother was right. Perhaps it had been a mistake to take Aurane into her service, but then she had acted with the best of interest, to avoid marriage at all costs.

And it had worked, hadn’t it? Rumors had it that both Lord Edmure Tully and Harry were now courting ladies…

“Dany,” it was Allyria’s snapping voice that called her back to the present. “Where are you?”

Dany smiled. “What did I miss?”

“Not much,” Allyria said and rolled her eyes. “Just that I think you ought to borrow Jeyne your dress. Then Lord Stark can chase her skirt instead of mine. I just want my peace.”

Dany chuckled and jumped to her feet, crossing the spacious chamber to retrieve a dress for Jeyne.

“Sure, I know a wonderful dress for Jeyne!” Dany announced and knelt beside her strongbox. She opened the heavy golden lock and pulled out a handful of gowns until she had found what she was searching for. This one was made of a shiny yellow cloth and inlaid with golden thread. “Though I think Allyria is selling herself short. You are a great beauty. Everyone at court says so. Truly, there should be no surprise why Lord Beric is so pleased to wait for you.”

Allyria clucked her tongue and took in the dress, her violet eyes resting on Jeyne across her shoulder. “Not bad, but I don’t think it will be enough to win her a Lord Paramount.”

Jeyne was shy as ever, but was smiling happily. “Robb Stark wouldn’t even look at me!”

“Nonsense,” Allyria assured her and waved her hand at Dany, who held the dress to Jeyne’s shoulders. “Men are rather simple when it comes to such things. Just smile at him and tell him what a great person he is. I know what I am talking about.”

“Are you?” Dany asked curiously. Allyria was always cold and secretive when it came to personal matters, but perhaps there was different reason. She didn’t trust Dany as much as Rhaenys. “Did you and Lord Beric?”

“Gods forbid!” Allyria exclaimed and patted Jeyne’s shoulders. “My mother would never talk to me again. And now enough of this talking. Deeds are important if you want to get this strapping lord into your bed, Jeyne!”

Jeyne muttered to herself, as she helped her with the bindings of her dress. Not long after, Jeyne was presenting her _borrowed_ dress to her small crowd.

Dany was pleased with her choice. The yellow gown made Jeyne’s dark hair shine like ink.

Not that she was ever ugly. In fact, she was quite beautiful, but her poor standing made the lords and knights in the capital overlook her at every turn.

“Some flowers and you will look like a Princess,” Dany added cheerfully and placed one of these flowers blue the maids had left for them into Jeyne’s hair. It were blue winter roses, the ones the queen liked the best. “I am sure this time Lord Stark will only have eyes for you.”

“I hope so,” Allyira said. “At least, that will keep the Stark heir away from me. I have no interest to marry a man from the North, let alone earn myself a spiteful mother-in-law who would alone hate me for being a legitimized bastard.”

Jeyne looked from Dany to Allyria.

“Jeyne,” Dany said and touched her shoulder. “Perhaps it would be best if you go and put on some of your jewelry. You have these lovely earrings I gifted you for your last nameday. They would fit well to your dress.”

Jeyne seemed oblivious to the true meaning of her words and fluttered out of the room.

Allyria’s violet eyes met Dany’s across the room.

“Why are you looking at me like my mother?”

“I usually like your blunt tongue, Lyra,” Dany said gently and crossed the room, her hand touching her shoulder. “But this is not King’s Landing, this is the North. They are also your family, are they not? Do you not wish to win their favor?”

Allyria chuckled. “Their favor? To them I would be nothing but Ashara Dayne’s bastard, fathered on her during a quick roll in the hay. I doubt my father would have even _cared_ about me. He certainly didn’t _care_ to marry my mother before he _fucked_ her and ran to his death.”

Dany was surprised to hear so much bitterness in her friend’s voice, but perhaps that was the real reason for her coldness. Allyria had been looked down upon for something she had no choice over by _both_ the Dornish and the people at court.

Being a Princess without a husband was uncomfortable, but being the bastard of a traitor another matter.

“He was betrothed, wasn’t he? To Lord Stark’s wife…,”

“Even more reason to _hate_ me.”

Dany sighed and pulled her arm around Allyria’s shoulders. She had to stand on her tip-toes to reach her.

“I doubt Lady Catelyn or Lord Stark would hate you.”

“Well, I will never find out,” Allyria replied and patted Dany’ shoulder. “For I have no intention to speak with them.”

“And what if _young_ Lord Stark asks you for a dance?”

Allyria grimaced. “Then I will dance. I have a blunt tongue, but I know my manners, Dany.”

Dany was pleased by that answer and let go of her friend. Then, she brushed her hands over her black dress. It was cut in the Dornish fashion, as Dany preferred it, but made of a thicker material suitable for the cold weather of the North.

“What do you think?”

Allyria’s answer was blunt as ever. “If he doesn’t fuck you he must have lost his cock beyond the Wall.”

Dany’s answer had been bursting laughter and she would have probably made some jape of her own if Ser Barristan hadn’t entered the room.

He graced them with a grandfatherly smile.

“I think it is time for you to join the others, my ladies…and Princess. Your escort has arrived.”

Allyria gave the lord an amused smile and wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders to ward off the cold reaching inside from the corridor.

Dany followed suit and poked her head outside. As expected, she found Aemon, Robb, and a tall young man that looked a handful of years older than the boys. He had the look of a Northman and his pale eyes looked very strange. The shorter boy next to him looked almost like a dwarf compared to him. All of them had taken good care in dressing themselves properly.

Yet, what seemed to amuse Allyria the most was the young man’s pink cloak.

She was still staring at it, as she came to stand beside Dany.

“I think introductions are in order,” Robb Stark said and waved his hand at the two strangers. “These are Domeric Bolton and Cley Cerwyn. I brought them as an escort for your two ladies, Lady Allyria and Lady Jeyne.”

Dany was surprised to hear that, but very pleased. Her ladies deserved attention.

“What do you say to that, Lyra?” Dany asked Allyria and Jeyne, who had joined them only moments later, as silently as a mouse.

“I am honored,” Jeyne replied and dropped a deep curtsy. “I am pleased to meet you, my Lords. Who will be my escort?”

“That will be me,” Cley Cerwyn said and blushed, as he bowed his head. He was a comely lad with freckled cheeks and blond hair. Jeyne blushed, as she took his hand.

“It seems only the two of us are left,” Allyria nodded and flashed Domeric a confident smile. “But be aware that I am pledged. You will have nothing more than a chaste dance, my Lord Bolton.”

If Domeric was angered by her words it didn’t show on his face.

He simply smiled and brushed his pink cloak over his shoulder.

“I am honored by your mere presence,” he replied sweetly and offered his hand.

“Lord Stark received several offers for Robb,” Aemon explained to her, as he led her along the corridor. “One from Lord Karstark and one from Lord Manderley. Both ladies are here tonight, so no escort for Robb.”

Dany felt disappointed by that, for she had hoped Robb might fall for Jeyne or Allyria like in the songs.

“Well, I think your cousin is more interested in Allyria,” Dany said, as they walked. It was not the first time that she noticed how much Aemon had changed since their last meeting. He had been a graceful young man when he had left for the North, but now he was nearly as tall as her brother and his sinewy arm promised that he had not been idly while he had been in the beyond the Wall. In truth, she had expected to find him in a miserable state, but it seemed that had been another false conclusion. “Jeyne noticed his staring.”

“Allyria was always a great beauty,” Aemon said quietly. He looked strangely restrained. “She must have a hundred suitors.”

“She has none,” Dany replied. “Because she chases them away with her betrothal to Lord Beric.”

“Is she?” he asked in confusion. “I thought it might be dissolved by now, considering that she has yet to be married after so many years of betrothal. And unlike me, Lord Beric wasn’t lost beyond the Wall.”

His melancholic mood told her he was angry or sad. She was not sure.

As a child she had prided herself on being able to read his emotions, but now his face had hardened into something unreadable, almost like a mask of stone.

“Did something happen?” she asked then and watched his face closely. “Did you fight with your father?”

Aemon frowned.

“We had a disagreement…that is all.”

“About what?” Dany asked and pulled him aside. The others were already a good dozen of paces ahead. “Rhaegar was so happy to find you alive.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Aemon replied almost sourly and pulled on her arm. “And we should get going.”

Dany disagreed. She didn’t want to sit next to her nephew like this, all gloomy and angry.

She also didn’t like that he didn’t want to tell her about his fight with Rhaegar.

Yet, she was sure it had to do with the Wall.

And that was her greatest fear. Namely that he was planning to run to the Wall again before she could tell him all he needed to know.

“I don’t want to. Not until we have spoken. Do you have no trust in me?”

“I do trust you,” Aemon insisted. “I just do not think this is the right time and the place…,” he began, but Dany cut him off.

“Well, I disagree. In the, past we never hid anything from each other. Why now?”

Aemon clenched his teeth. “Very well, my father forbids me to accompany him beyond the Wall.”

Dany nodded her head. “And you are surprised by that? The last time, you nearly died and disappeared for three years!”

“It is still my responsibility!” Aemon said and made a step forward, but stopped not long after, his one dark eye searching for Dany. “Father is treating my like a little babe. And you are doing the same.”

Dany was taken back by his words and decided she was having none of it.

“What is wrong with you?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“Nothing.”

“Then, stop acting like that. You are barely back and now you want to go venturing beyond the Wall again?”

“I have my duties…you wouldn’t understand…nobody of you would understand what I have seen.”

“What are you speaking about?” Dany asked curiously, her hand reaching for his shoulder. “I promise I will listen.”

“Not now,” Aemon said in a softer tone and lifted his hands. Fresh snowflakes were falling from the sky, melting away in his dark hair. It was longer than she recalled it, but properly brushed. Besides his lacking eye, he looked handsome as ever. “Later when the feast is done I shall tell you everything about it. Do we have a deal?”

Dany smiled at that and was relieved to hear that he was seeing reason.

It was a step towards understanding, though she felt she still had a long way ahead of her.

“We have a deal.”

The feast was in full swing.

Shouts and laughter spilled through the great hall and the two minstrels a certain Lord Manderley had brought with him were spreading merriment wherever they went. The songs rose and died and a hazy cloud of smoke hung over the hall, the smell of roasted meat filling her nose.

It was nothing compared to the festivities in King’s Landing, though neither Lord Stark nor her brother were in good spirits. They both looked as if they were attending a funeral rather than a feast, but then Dany hadn’t expected anything else from her brother. It could be a day full of sunshine, but he would still frown into his cup. Lord Stark seemed of a similar kind and now she finally understood why Lord Benjen claimed that Aemon had much of his brother, though Dany had to disagree with that notion. He had much more of Rhaegar, despite the different coloring.

Yet, there was one way to lift her brother’s spirits and that was her good-sister Lyanna. Whenever she spoke to Rhaegar, a ghost of a smile played on his lips. Alysanne was much the same. She was smiling much more than usual, as she was whispering to Arya, who had bother their pups lying beneath their feet. Now and then, Dany could see them feed them scraps of chicken.

Only Lady Sansa seemed displeased, as if she didn’t enjoy the feast as her friends, a certain Jeyne Poole and Beth Castle.

Dany herself was enjoying herself as well. She had already shared a dance with Robb and his younger brother, Rickon was his name, and several other lords of the North, whose names she couldn’t remember.

The Northmen cold hands, but good humor and even a better drinking capacity. Not once in her life, had Dany met people, who could consume more ale without puking out their guts.

Only Aemon didn’t seem enthusiastic about the festivities, despite their talk earlier. Well, it hadn’t been a real talk for that matter. She had yet to reveal to him the whole truth about Jacarys and unravel what had happened in the last three years. It won’t be an easy path, so much Dany was sure.

“My Lady Allyria,” a familiar voice caused her to turn around. It was Robb Stark and he loomed over Allyria with a smile a warm smile playing on his lips. Even her friend looked slightly surprised. “Only if you don’t mind, Domeric.”

“Of course not,” the heir to House Bolton replied and jerked his head at Allyria. “We have already shared two dances and I had two whole cups of ale. I need my rest.”

“Is that a yes?” Robb asked Lady Allyria.

Allyria bit her lips and looked at Dany.

Dany was quick to react.

“I think so, Lord Stark. You have to forgive my friend. When she is silent it means she is in full agreement.”

Allyria glared at her openly, but didn’t refuse.

“Very well, Lord Stark,” she said and pulled up her skirt, as she rose to her feet. “Let’s dance. My feet are sleepy anyway. Time to wake them up.”

Robb Stark giggled like a fool and didn’t hesitate to lead the other girl unto the dance floor. Soon after, they were twirling and hopping along to the sound of the music.

And that was no surprise. It was _the Bear and the Maiden Fair_.

It made Dany wish to dance aswell, though neither her nor Aemon had ever been particularly good dancers.

“How about we join them?” Dany asked Aemon, who had barely noticed the world around him, though had lifted his head when she had addressed him.

“Who?” he asked and looked around.

“The dance,” Dany replied in amusement and confusion. ”What else?”

Aemon smiled. “Of course.”

Then, he rose to his feed and offered his hand to her.

Dany was pleased by his lack of refusal and soon they were joining the rest, trying their best to follow the sound of the music. It was easier said than done, for only a heartbeats later, Dany was already stepping on Aemon’s feet.

“At least some things don’t change,” Dany chuckled in return and twirled once and a second time.

At the third time, the song died down and changed to a more suitable song.

“You did well,” Dany praised Aemon and was quick to wash away her thirst with a sip from her ale. “I thought you had forgotten about that too.”

“What…how _not_ to dance?” Aemon asked and laughed even more when his dark eye found someone in the crowd.

Dany inclined her head and realized it was Arya. She was dancing with a tall, silver-haired boy garbed in a deep-velvet cloak. It was Edric Dayne, who had joined part of the King’s retinue to meet his Uncle once more. He was supposed to be his squire, but that had been delayed for a few years and thus he had been several lords in the meantime.

He seemed also very pleased to dance with Arya, but the girl was much like Aemon, stumbling over each step as if she was slightly drunk.

“She is _slightly_ better than us,” Aemon remarked and earned himself a slap on the shoulder by Dany.

“You are _not_ very nice,” Dany chided him wand was surprised to find Sansa Stark behind her. She was beautiful and the way she was smiling at Aemon didn’t please her. It was the kind of smile Cersei Lannister is giving her brother.

Still, it wouldn’t reflect well on Dany if she showed these feelings.

“Sansa,” Aemon said. “Do you wish to dance? Well, you have seen…I am rather bad at it.”

The girl blushed and smiled sweetly. It was a dangerous smile, though much softer than Cersei Lannister’s.

“I would be pleased to dance.”

Aemon nodded his head and went to do his duty, though it seemed _the Bear of the Maiden Fair_ and their previous dance had helped to lift his mood.

Yet, it remained only at one dance and Aemon returned to her not long after, smiling once more.

“You did much better with your cousin,” Dany remarked to her displeasure. “But then she is a much _better_ dancer than me.”

The girl smiled tensely and dropped a quick curtsy. “You do me honor, Princess.”

Then, she fluttered away with a flutter of silk.

By then, Robb had exchanged Allyria with Jeyne, who was grinning like a fool.

Sadly, the young Lord only had eyes for Allyria, for soon after he was seeking out her company again. This time, Allyria refused and remained seated. Robb Stark didn’t seem distraught by that refusal, for he moved on to the next lady, but his blue gaze was still lingering on Allyria.

“I think Robb is in love,” Dany remarked beside Allyria, who drowned her displeasure in a cup of wine. “I was right, wasn’t I?”

“I suppose so,” Allyria remarked and jerked her head. “But I am betrothed.”

“Since when do you care about that?” Dany whispered to her, but never received an answer, for all eyes on the room had long shifted to her brother, who had demanded his harp and meant to play.

It was a beautiful thing wrought in the shape of dragons and so polished it gleamed like molten silver in the torchlight.

When everyone was silence, Rhaegar played up a song, pleasing to the ears and at the same time sleep-inducing.

Yet, everyone seemed transfixed by the song, despite their differences. Especially, the ladies were sniffling into their handkerchiefs besides Allyria.

She sat beside a weeping Jeyne Poole, her eyes fixed on the Stark heir and an icy expression showing on her face.

Dany was distraught by that.

There was so much hatred inside her friend.

When the song had ended, her friend averted her gaze and Dany looked back at Aemon.

She sucked in a deep breath and looked back at Aemon.

She knew that it was time to reveal the _truth_.

Dany was not surprised that Aemon invited her to join him in his chamber. Not that it would have been possibility for him to seek out her chamber, for her two ladies were sleeping in the room close by.

“I don’t think anyone will bother us,” Aemon said at last after he had closed the door behind him and started to pull of his cloak. He placed the garment on a nearby chair and sat down while Dany sat down on the bed. Her feet hurt and thus she pulled off her slippers.

“It is so very warm here,” Dany couldn’t help but to remark. “And yet the North is such a horribly cold place.”

“Winterfell has been built on hot springs,” Aemon told her and smiled. “I can show you the place if you like, but I do not think that would be _appropriate_ given that we have yet to be wed. The godswood is nothing like the crypts below the Red Keep.”

“I satisfied with your bed and company,” Dany said and felt at a loss at words. How can one sum up three years of absence and tell someone that he had a son?

It were such simple words, but it was harder than expected.

“Well, this isn’t appropriate either,” Aemon replied and rose to his feet, as he crossed the room to stand before Dany. “I haven’t spoken to father yet, but I suppose we will finally be able to wed. Aegon is finally wed. There is no impediment.”

“Aye,” Dany confirmed and nodded her head, as she made space for Aemon to sit down beside her. “He has been wed. I am sure he would have liked to have you there.”

“It cannot be helped,” Aemon said and sat down beside her. “And it may take even longer before I can see him. I think I will try to speak with father once more. I cannot let him go alone.”

Dany was taken back by these swords. Anger surged through her chest.

“You still want to go?”

Aemon gave her quizzical look. “It is my duty.”

Dany disagreed with that, her heart filling with fresh fear.

“Well, you have other duties to attend to, duties I have yet to tell you about.”

Aemon said nothing for a long moment, his brows furrowed.

“I do not quite understand…,” he trailed off.

Dany sucked in a deep breath and started to pull on the sash around her waist, holding her dress together.

She didn’t know why, but it helped her to calm her strained nerves.

“Of course you don’t…to put it simple, we have a son.”

Aemon said nothing and backed away, his face pale and his one dark eye glimmering in a strange light.

“You had a child, but I…,” Aemon stuttered and fell silent again. He sucked in a deep breath and gave her a rather flustered look that made him look a bit more like the old Aemon. “You know…I was always careful.”

Dany couldn’t help but to chuckle.

“Well, it turns out that pulling out is not the best way of contraception.”

Aemon gave a gasp and shook his head in understanding. “I was a foolish boy.”

Dany was relieved that he was taking it so well. She had expected worse, given how sensible he had been in the past about his birth.

“So were we both,” she replied and leaned forward to take his hand in her own. Her heart was suddenly much lighter and she was finally able to speak the words she had been searching for. “Well, our son is the result of that. He is three and I have yet to tell him about you…Mace Tyrell and Lord Tywin made my life more difficult than I could have ever anticipated.”

“What did they do?” Aemon asked at once, his voice laced with obvious displeasure.

“Rhaegar legitimized my son, but the Lords Tywin and Mace Tyrell decided there is not enough proof to legitimize him as your son. Their goal is quite clear of course…to keep him out of the succession.”

“And with me gone, there was a greater chance that Rhaenys or Gaemon could rule one day,” Aemon summed up and squeezed her hand.

She could tell by his demeanor that he was very angry, but he carried it all with a strangely calm demeanour.

His adventure beyond the Wall had really changed him.

“I shouldn’t have expected anything less from these lords,” Aemon said at last and exhaled deeply, as he sat back down beside Dany. “Well, this problem can be removed by marriage and if they want to fight me about it they are welcome to try.”

His answer pleased her, but that wasn’t enough to brush away her fears.

“So will you still go beyond the Wall?”

Aemon frowned at that. “I suppose not.”

Then, he took her hand and lifted it to his lips. She sensed the familiar feeling of warmth pooling between her legs, but when he dropped her hand she knew that was not what he had in mind.

“And now enough about these _damned_ lords,” he declared and searched her face. “Tell me about _our_ son.”

…


	12. Lyanna

**Lyanna**

Alysanne hadn’t said much since Rhaegar had told her of his plans of seeing her wed to Robin Arryn. He had explained his political reasons and Alysanne had nodded her head obediently.

Lyanna didn’t know what to make of her daughter’s behavior, for their talk had taken place hours before and Alysanne hadn’t said anything since Lyanna had come to help her with her hair. Truth be told, her little girl was very well able to do it herself, but Lyanna had always enjoyed doing her hair. That was the advantage of having a girl, for neither Aemon nor Gaemon had ever liked it when she was touching their hair. Alone the idea of giving them a haircut had always been a difficult topic, but Alysanne had never complained.

Lyanna exhaled deeply and decided to bring up the topic herself.

“Tell me, sweetling,” Lyanna said and put the brush away. “What do you think about your future marriage to _young_ Lord Arryn?”

Alysanne turned her head and smiled at her. “What is there to say, mother? I am pleased to be of use to father and I like the idea of being the lady of _something_. I have read much about the Vale. It is a very remote place and I am sure that _Storm_ is going to like it there. Do you think father could be convinced to allow Roger and his sister to join me there?”

“Sure,” Lyanna confirmed and pulled her long hair behind her shoulders before she started to braid it carefully. “Roger is a squire now and there is no one who _Storm_ would accept other than him. I am not sure about his sister. I heard she has taken a liking for the stablemaster. I think they are going to be wed.”

“I see,” Alysanne said and nodded her head in acknowledgement. “Well, then I will have to choose one of these ladies from the Vale as my companions. They cannot be that bad, can’t they?”

Lyanna heard the doubt in her daughter’s voice and decided to be as honest as possible. “No, I am sure they will be polite to you, but you know how it goes…I am sure they are going to talk behind your back.”

“They always do,” Alysanne said. “But I will be able to have them punished for it. I will after all be the Lady of the Vale.”

“True,” Lyanna chuckled. “But Lady Lysa is not the easiest person. She will insist to keep her position until young Lord Arryn is of age.”

“Well, I won’t marry him now, won’t I?” Alysanne asked. “Mayhaps by then his mother will have warmed up to me. And if not…Well, then I am going to accept it as it is. You know how stubborn I can be, mother.”

“I know,” Lyanna said and fastened her braid with a ribbon. It was a blue one and suited her dark hair. “But that is not the matter that worries me. Tell me, sweetling. Do you think you will be able to fulfill _your_ duties?”

Alysanne’s brows rose to the top of her head.

“What are you trying to say, mother?”

“What I mean is that it might be hard for you to do your duty. You know what I mean…you would have to…,” she began, but Alysanne silenced her by placing her hand on her shoulder.

“I am a girl flowered, mother. I have known about these things for a long time and I do not think it will be impossible for me to do what animals have been doing for thousands of years. And in regards to y _oung_ Lord Arryn…I am not afraid of a boy that cannot even hold a sword. At least, that is what Gaemon told me.”

Lyanna rose to her feet and watched her daughter intently.

“Try to see it like this,” her daughter said and beamed. “I do not even have need of a member of the Kingsguard. If Lady Lysa is as difficult as you say I will simply introduce her to my direwolf.”

This time, her daughter managed to ease Lyanna’s worries.

“I think I would pay to see, Lady Lysa’s face.”

“Perhaps I will invite you,” Alysanne said and pulled the bedding all the way up to her chin. Lyanna waved her hand once more at her daughter before she closed the door behind her.

Everyone had already assembled in Ned’s solar when she arrived. There were her brothers Ned and Benjen, their wives and Rhaegar, each of them holding a cup of mulled wine in their hands. There were also fresh almond cakes and a warm fire cackling in the hearth where Arthur Dayne was standing guard. The view made Lyanna smile, for she knew why Arthur as seeking the warmth of the curling flames. Even after three years, he had never gotten used to the cold of the North.

“There you are,” Rhaegar said and waved his hand at her to sit down beside him. “We have been waiting for you, Lya.”

“I thank you,” Lyanna said and sat down beside Rhaegar. Benjen was quick to fill her cup and after she had taken her first taste she shifted her attention back to the other people assembled around the table.

“You may proceed,” she told them. “I hope I didn’t miss all too much?”

“Not much,” Ned replied and shifted his attention back to Benjen and Rhaegar. “Only that we have finally decided on a plan. I shall accompany the King to the Wall to speak with Lord Commander Mormont before we decide on how to proceed. I do not think it would be wise to do this without the Lord Commander’s approval.”

Rhaegar nodded his head in agreement. “That leaves the question of how many swords we will take with us. I have only a few hundred at hand and I do not think it would be a good idea to involve your lords into this delicate matter. I think it will be better if we speak with Mance before we include them.”

“I am not so sure about that,” Benjen said. “They might hold it against you if you are doing this behind their back. I have no fear in regards to the Manderlys or the Mormonts, but the Karstarks, Umbers and Boltons will not look kindly on such a behavior.”

“I agree with Benjen,” Lady Catelyn added. “You should include them, Ned.”

Her brother sighed deeply, as she watched the crimson liquid dance in his cup. He took a quick sip and furrowed his brows before he spoke again.

“Perhaps you are right,” Ned said and looked over to Rhaegar. ”We don’t have to include all of them. The Umbers, Flints, the Mormonts and Karstarks are the closest to the Wall and suffer the most under the Wildling raids. A few hundred men from each house would be enough.”

Rhaegar nodded his head in acceptance. “Far be it from me to disagree with you, Lord Stark. This is not my dominion to rule and thus I will gladly accept your decision in this matter. If you think it is best to take these men with us I shall accept that. Speaking of men, I have also decided to talk half of my guard with me. Does that please you, my Lord?”

Ned nodded his head. “That should be enough to protect us.”

Rhaegar seemed pleased with that answer and touched Lyanna’s arm. “I regret taking half your guard, but you shall have the Kingsguard, for I have decided not to inflict the freezing cold upon Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur. Instead they shall accompany you, Aemon and Daenerys south. Aegon will have more need of them while he rules in my stead.”

Arthur had lifted his gaze in that moment. Lyanna could tell by his startled expression that he had not expected Rhaegar’s decision.

Lyanna didn’t like it either, but she had learned a long time ago that it was no good idea to question Rhaegar in front of others.

“I see,” Ned said. “And when do you wish to leave?”

“As soon as possible,” Rhaegar said. “But I shall be patient to wait.”

“That is good to hear,” Benjen answered for Ned. “The snows will make it only harder for you travel beyond the Wall. I know what I am talking about, Ned.”

“Then we should try to prepare everything within the matter of a week turn,” Ned said at last and looked back at Rhaegar. “Only if that is to your satisfaction, your Grace?”

Rhaegar nodded his head in acknowledgement. “I am pleased. A week turn will be enough time to settle my business.”

“There is another matter I wished to address Lord Stark,” Rhaegar added after a moment of silence had passed between them. ”You might have heard that my daughter Alysanne is promised to Lord Robin Arryn. Well, as I heard from Lord Edmure himself , he is planning to host a tourney at Riverrun to celebrate his own betrothal to Lady Roslin Frey. Thus, I am intending to write to my son Aegon to add coin to this tourney. I think it would be a great opportunity to celebrate a peaceful coming together.”

Lyanna could tell by Ned’s expression that he didn’t like the idea of seeing his children go south. His wife didn’t look any happier, especially when Rhaegar had mentioned Lady Frey. Lyanna didn’t know the girl very well, but Dany had told her that she was very sweet and kind. She was also from the Riverlands and her family was certainly wealthy, though their wealth was slowly being wasted away by old Walder Frey’s large amount of offspring. That they were loyal to the crown only showed that Lord Edmure had not forgotten that Rhaegar had shown him mercy, though he certainly had reason to hate him.

“I have heard of Lord Edmure’s plans from my wife,” Ned replied and looked over to his Lady. “I admit, I do not like to see my children leave the safety of Winterfell, but Riverrun is home to their kin and I think it is time for them to see their brother again. You have my agreement, your Grace. My brother Benjen can rule in my stead.”

He looked at Benjen and smiled. “What do you say, Benjen?”

Benjen returned his smile. “I think that can be arranged.”

“I am surprised your brother agreed without hesitation,” Rhaegar said later when they had returned to their chamber. ”He didn’t seem pleased with my idea.”

“Ned doesn’t like the south,” Lyanna replied and fastened the last button of her nightgown. Then, she sat down on the bed and watched Rhaegar from the distance. He had already discarded his boots and was only dressed in breeches. His white tunic and even his hair had been freed from its numerous braids, spilling freely all the way down his shoulders. “But he is trying to make peace with you. I think, the last three years of my presence have helped to change his view about us for the better. I doubt he will ever be able to completely let go of the past, but I am sure he will try hard to help you, Rhaegar.”

Rhaegar hummed is approval and continued writing his letter, probably instructions for Aegon.

Lyanna waited until he had finished and cleared her throat.

“Rhaegar,” she said and rose to her feet. They were bare, but the floor was pleasantly warm. “Why are you not taking Arthur with you? I would sleep better if you did.”

Rhaegar came to stand in front of her, his dark eyes wandering over her face in silence, as his hands touched her shoulder blades. She shuddered, but the cold was not the cause. It had been a long time ago, that she had lain with Rhaegar and his close proximity only added to the surfacing of long-buried desires.

“Arthur spend three years in the North and Ser Barristan is an excellent swordsman, but he does not take well to the North. I suppose I could take Ser Jaime with me, but I am not sure how pleased Lord Tywin would be to see his son venture beyond the Wall.”

“Ser Jaime is an excellent swordsman and a man of the Kingsguard,” Lyanna pointed out and rose on the tip of her toes, as she leaned closer to brush her lips over his. “I also think he is unhappy to be linger constantly in the shadows of his brothers. Besides, Ser Barristan and Ser Gerold Hightower are not getting any older and will need replacements in the future. I suppose you are planning to make Arthur the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, but perhaps you should think of Ser Jaime as well. I think that would please Lord Tywin even more than sheltering his son at every turn.”

Rhaegar chuckled and brushed his hand over the back of her head. “I don’t think anything I do could ever please Lord Tywin Lannister, but your suggestion is reasonable. I trust Ser Arthur and Ser Barristan more than my life, but Ser Jaime has served faithfully. I think it is time for him to prove his mettle. Aye, I shall take him with me. Does that please you, love?”

Lyanna grinned and her heart felt suddenly much lighter, though there was still fear whenever she thought of the fact that Rhaegar would soon be travelling beyond the Wall, though unlike her son he would have a large amount of swords at his side to protect him.

Yet, she didn’t like the idea of parting from him so soon. They had just reunited.

“I would prefer if you didn’t go,” Lyanna added softly and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Why not sent someone else? You are the King.”

“Which is why I must do this,” Rhaegar insisted and kissed her, his mouth opening to hers, as his hands brushed over her breasts. She felt warmth spread between her legs and returned his kiss, her tongue mingling with his.

“Let me…,” she told him a moment later, a hoarse chuckle spilling from her lips. Then, she pulled off her gown and threw it on the ground, leaving her naked as her nameday. “Now I am fine.”

Rhaegar stared back at her in silence, a seldom smile crossing his lips.

Lyanna rubbed her shoulders and grinned. She was eager.

“You should hurry and stop standing there like a fool or I will freeze to death.”

Rhaegar chuckled and pulled her back into his embrace. His lips tasted of wine and honey. Soon enough, her hands were fumbling at his breeches while Rhaegar’s hands brushed over her side.

A gasp spilled from her lips, as he touched her between her legs and left her trembling.

His breeches slipped low while her fingers scrambled to grasp at him with a heavy gasp. He groaned when she stroked his manhood. That broke his control enough to pull back from the kiss and press Lyanna back onto the bed.

Lyanna laughed, as he parted her legs.

“Rhaegar,” she whispered. “What are…,” her words failed her when his lips touched her woman’s place.

Only when Lyanna pulled a bit too hard on his hair, did he stop in his ministrations.

“You hurt me,” Rhaegar complained jestingly, but Lyanna silenced his mouth with another kiss and wrapped her legs around his waist.

“And you complain too much for a fierce dragon!”

Rhaegar laughed, as he slipped inside her. “Well, not everybody can claim to be a wild she-wolf!”

Lyanna knew what he meant and buried her nails in his back, as he pounded into her at a fast pace. In between gasping kisses she bit into his ear, an act that was enough to push him over the edge.

At once, he froze.

He was still gasping, as he rolled unto his side.

Lyanna did the same, nestling close to him. She didn’t know if it was his Valyrian blood, but his skin was always warm too touch.

“You are out of practice,” Lyanna teased him and received an amused smile. “That was a poor performance for a dragon.”

“Well, I am not getting younger,” he said and brushed his hand through her messy curls. “But perhaps you will allow me another try once I have recovered.”

Lyanna grinned.

“Only if you are up for it!”

…


	13. Allyria

**Allyria**

“Did you see their clumsy stitching?” she heard Jeyne Poole whisper to Sansa Stark, the pretty red-haired daughter of Eddard Stark. Allyria had overheard them, as she found them sitting around the hearth, devoid of their shoes and their cloaks wet. They must have taken a walk in the snow after their stitching lesson in the morning. “One ought to think that a Princess and her ladies would be better at such things, yet their work was barely better than Arya’s.”

Allyria had partaken in the lesson out of duty, as had Dany. Only Jeyne had derived some pleasure from, it as she had been allowed to show her stitching to all these important ladies. Under other circumstances, she wouldn’t have cared about the babbling of these silly chickens, but it hadn’t escaped her how Sansa Stark was eying Prince Aemon.

“Oh, I think Arya’s is worse,” Beth Castle added shyly, her cheeks deeply flushed.

Sansa Stark giggled softly, but in a subdued and polite manner.

Allyria had to give her that. She knew how to behave herself, but the well-chosen words that followed were probably due to her presence.

“But I am sure the Princess has mastered other arts.”

“Daenerys plays the harp,” Allyria said and stepped closer. She wasn’t afraid of these girls when she had faced women like Cersei Lannister. These were soft kittens compared to her. “And is quite an accomplished rider. I have no talent for needlework, but I know how to use a spear.”

The girls eyed her, as if she had grown a second-head.

“A spear?” Beth asked.

“What would a lady do with spear?” Jeyne Poole asked nosily. She disliked how the girl eyed her. It told her that they had heard the rumors about her too. It only helped to stir her resentment.

“Well, in Dorne we like to use them to prick nosy little girls,” Allyria replied and dropped a quick curtsy before leaving the girls to their own thoughts.

Then, she returned to her chambers to seek out Jeyne and Daenerys, but she only found Jeyne.

“Oh, you are all alone?” Allyria asked.

Jeyne smiled and continued with her needlework. “Daenerys went riding out with Prince Aemon, Lady Arya and the Queen.”

“Good for us,” Allyria said and settled in the chair. She liked Dany, but she was glad that she hadn’t forced to go riding with her. She certainly enjoyed horsemanship, but not in this frozen place. “We will have some free time. What are you going to do with yours?”

“I am going to finish is this,” Jeyne offered. ”I could help you with yours?”

Allyria groaned and was quickly back on her feet. “I think I will pay Princess Alysanne a visit. She must be lonely.”

Jeyne nodded her head in agreement. “She is probably up at the battlements or in the godswood. I heard Lord Rickon likes to take her there.”

Allyria was not surprised. “You overhear everything, don’t you?”

Jeyne chuckled and shrugged her shoulders. “I suppose I do.”

With these words, Allyria left her friend and pulled on her thick fur cloak. It was made from white pelt and a gift from her step-father, Lord Richard Lonmouth to her last nameday. It was a fine gift, but at times she felt he was only doing these things out of pity.

Pity. It was worse than having an actual debt.

The wind proved sharp, as it touched her cheeks, but it was better than to watch Jeyne stitch.

First, she set out to explore the battlements, but there she found only the guardsmen, who told her that the Princess had gone to kennels.

Allyria had rung with her a moment before her curiosity had gotten the better of her. She had gotten a glimpse at the direwolves, but she longed to see them once more.

Thus, she asked Tom, that was the name of the chubby guardsman, to show her the way.

As promised, she found the Princess seated on a heap of straw, playing with the pup that was running around her in circles, being chased by a slightly larger direwolf.

Her laughter was bright and loud.

Allyria was about to open her mouth, but then she noticed the presence of the Stark heir and froze in her steps.

Worse was, that he was the first one to notice her presence.

“My Lady,” he said and smiled. He lowered his head towards her, as if she was a real lady, but she knew the truth. He only wanted what was between her legs. Just like Harry. “What brings you here?”

 _Don’t be hopeful, fool_ , Allyria thought and shifted her attention back to Princess Alysanne. _I am never going to open my legs for you._

“I had thought Princess Alysanne would care for some company,” Allyria explained and knelt down to squeeze Alysanne’s arm. ”Only if you will have me of course?”

Alys smiled. ”Aye, of course.”

Allyria’s heart warmed at once.

“And I think my pup is also pleased to meet you,” the Princess added kindly.

And she was right, for the sweet red direwolf came towards her, licking her knuckles.

Allyria felt an immediate connection, as if she was meeting an old friend.

“My, your fur is soft. Alysanne is taking good care of you.”

The pup made a sweet sound and ran back to Alysanne, who received the pup with open arms and even more laughter.

Robb Stark’s direwolf followed suit, but to greet Allyria and not to continue chasing after Alysanne’s wolf.

He was just as beautiful and licked her hand.

Yet, she felt only more distrust rising up inside her, when she noticed that the Stark heir was watching her intently.

“What are you staring at?” she asked him rather bluntly. “My Lord?”

The Stark heir blushed and grinned.

“You, my Lady. And how can I not? That pelt of yours is marvelous to look upon.”

She knew he was not really talking about the pelt, for he had been staring at her bosom.

He probably voiced it in an appropriate manner to spare Alysanne any misunderstandings.

“Well, thank you,” she said and frowned. “Forgive me for saying so, Lord Stark, but have you no duties to attend to?”

Robb Stark laughed.

“I could say the same about you, my Lady. Why are you not with your Princess?”

“I was exhausted after the stitching lessons in the morning,” Allyria sighed. ”Stitching makes me always tired.”

Robb shook with laughter and Alysanne chuckled lightly. “Only Sansa and my mother take joy in it, but then who would do it if not capable ladies like them?”

“Well, can you stich, my Lord?” Allyria asked.

Robb gave her a surprised look. “No, why are you asking?”

Allyria rose to her feet.

“Well, in Dorne every knight knows to sew a hole.”

Robb Stark shook his head in disbelief.

“A useful thought, but here in the North the men prefer their wives to take care of such things.”

“The South is not much different,” Alysanne added. “And I am glad to be a princess. That way I don’t have to these things myself.”

“True,” Robb agreed and turned his head to watch his direwolf run towards the stable door. “Being a Princess certainly has its perks.”

“And being a lord,” Allyria added and laughed when she saw the direwolf push his head against the door.

“I think your wolf needs to make water.”

“I have to say. You have a natural connection with these wolfs, my lady. It must be in your blood.”

Allyria froze and tried her best to hide her emotions.

When she said nothing, Robb Stark smiled and leaned down to touch Alysanne’s arm.

“We could take a walk in the godswood?”

“A great idea,” Alysanne added and rose to her feet. “I think my pup will be pleased to take a walk.”

Not, long after they found themselves walking around in the godswood, fresh snowflakes whirling down from the sky and melting away in Robb Stark’s red hair.

Allyria tried to hide her awe at the sight of the weirwood trees and more importantly…to ignore the Stark heir’s staring.

He was a handsome man, so much was true, but he was also the son of a high lord. _And my cousin._

Yet, she endured it for the sake of Alysanne, who was her friend and waving her hand at the crows.

“I think it is getting rather chilly,” Allyria said after a while and pulled on the girl’s frozen fingers. “I thing we ought to return to the castle.”

The truth was a different one. She wanted to rid herself off the Stark heir.

Yet, she had no luck, for along the way they met Rickon, who offered himself up to escort the Princess Alysanne back to her chambers, an offer the sly girl took without hesitation.

Little minx.

“I think Lord Stark can take care of you.”

Allyria nodded her head and looked back at Lord Stark, who was smiling at her wildly while she felt like a fly caught in a net.

“Very well,” she replied and took his arm. “Show me the way if it pleases you.”

Robb grinned and led the way, Greywind walking beside her.

“He likes you,” he said. “He can sense that you are his blood.”

Allyria stopped abruptly.

“What do you know about that anyway?”

Robb Stark looked startled by her outburst.

“Did I insult you?”

“No,” Allyria snapped. ”Nobody can insult me without my permission. Not even people like you.”

Robb Stark furrowed his brows, but he didn’t appear insulted.

“I have no doubt about that, my Lady. You do have a hidden temper. It is strange…you were so very different when you first came to court and now you are so outspoken.”

Allyria didn’t know if that was a compliment or an insult. She also didn’t want him to know that she felt flattered by his words. _Stupid heart._

“You have a way with words. I give you that.”

”And I think I know a place you should visit, my Lady.”

This roused Allyria’s curiosity.

“And that would be where exactly?”

“I can show you if you like.”

It sounded like a challenge and Allyria was never one to refuse a challenge.

“Show me, then.”

Robb Stark said nothing, as he led her down the whirling stone steps. A sea of darkness spread before her, the torch the only light parting the shadows.

Stone statues appeared before her eyes, some whole and some crumbling, some armed with rusty blades and others protected by direwolves. Others wore crowns and some flowing cloaks of fur. It were the lords and kings of winter who greeted her.

She felt only more uncomfortable, as they stopped at a particular statue.

This one looked very new and showed a handsome young man.

Allyria froze when she realized who it was.

Her father. The shameless man who had used her mother like a common whore.

Yet, what she hated even more was the fact that she couldn’t simply run away. She would never find her way out of this suffocating darkness.

“You are trembling,” Robb Stark remarked beside her. He looked worried. “Are you well? I thought…,” he began, but Allyria shrugged him off and flashed him a hard look.

“I want to leave,” she demanded. “I do not belong here.”

Robb Stark opened his mouth in protest, but she shook her head.

“I wish to leave.”

Robb Stark obeyed and Allyria parted from him the moment they had reached the top of the stairs.

No, she didn’t just go, but fled from the godswood like a bloody coward.

Only when she reached the safety of her chamber, did she allow her feelings to wash over her.

 _Foolish girl_ , she chided herself and went to change into fresh clothing for the evening _. Foolish. Foolish girl._

“There you are,” Dany said and eyed her with concern. She was still garbed in her riding dress, her hair wet from the snowflakes and her cheeks flushed. “I wondered where you were?”

“I was out,” Allyria told her and smiled. “How was your evening?”

Dany frowned and pulled off her cloak before hanging it on the nearby chair.

She rubbed her hands, as she sighed.

“I hardly get any privacy here,” she told Allyria. “Someone is always around.”

Allyria nodded her head in understanding and picked up Dany’s soaked cloak.

“Your dress is wet,” Allyria remarked. “Did you kiss the snow?”

“Oh, a little,” Daenerys explained and smiled like a little girl. “My horse nearly stumbled and I fell down. It was the softest landing I had ever had.”

Allyria sighed in relief and patted her shoulders. “Yet, you should dry yourself. You could get sick.”

“I never get sick,” Daenerys told her, but obeyed. She pulled off her dress and soon enough they were sitting in front of the rug of the hearth, listening to the crackling flames. Dany had changed into a simpler dress, her silver hair hanging limp to her waist.

Soon, they were drinking mulled wine and eating honey cakes.

It helped to lift her mood, but she was unable to forget what had happened this evening.

Jeyne joined them soon after and showed them the wonderful emboriderment she had made.

“You must make one for me one of these days,” Dany asked of her after she had complimented her. Allyria liked her for her disarming kindness, but at times it also worried her. She was blind to her enemies, though this enemy was just a giggling girl.

“Dany,” Allyria said after she had emptied her cup. “Have you noticed Sansa Stark’s staring?”

Dany’s smile vanished immediately.

“I have noticed, but I do not think Aemon is aware of it. He seems to think of her as nothing more than his cousin.”

“Did he tell you that?” Allyria asked skeptically. “Or is that your own observation?”

“My own,” Dany replied and bit her lips, as she pulled her legs to her chest. “Do you think she is making herself any hopes?”

“Why not?” Allyria asked. ”I do not think anyone here knows that Aemon is the father of your son. As far as she knows you are a disgraced Princess and Aemon is second in line to the throne until Aegon has a son of his own.”

Dany paled a little. “I suppose not, but it is a rather difficult topic. Rhaegar said it needs to be handled carefully and that I should wait for any announcements until I am properly wed. Then, nobody can question it.”

Dany had a point, but Allyria also believed that one ought not to dally around too long to do something.

The topic also sparked a sudden idea.

“Dany,” Allyria said and smiled. “Why not marry here?”

Dany gave her a confused look.

“I saw a Sept, but I do not think they have Septons here.”

Allyria chuckled and slapped her thighs.

“Who needs a bloody Septon when you are in the North?”

Dany face lightened up like a bright star.

“Of course! A weirdwood tree!”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't know if anyone cares, but if you need something to read to waste time during your quarantine...here is what I am re-reading...
> 
> River God by Wilbur Smith. It is about ancient Egypt and told from the perspective of a man named Taita who is advisor to a noble lady name Lostris, who later becomes Queen of Egypt. It is really well done. There is a romance subplot going on, but the story is mostly focused on political intrigue and battles. 
> 
> Red Rising...I am to lazy to look up the author, but you should find it by adding book in good reads. It is kinda a dystopian novel, but with actual good world building and no stupid love triangles. It is basically about a guy who works for a terrorist troop and tries to infilitrate the ruling class of this world they live in. It is actually quite brutal at times. It is not a story for kiddies.
> 
> Warlord Chronicles...by Bernhard Chornicles. A gritty re-telling of the King Arthur tale. The best book series I have ever read and my fave. Sorry...George. 
> 
> I have also been reading some mangas again:
> 
> So, anyone who likes GoT should read Beserk. 
> 
> If you like historical stuff I would recommend Red River by Chie Shinoara: it is about a girl who ends up in the Hettite Empire. It is fucking long and it is a shoujo manga, meaning it is mostly for chicks since there is a big romance sub-plot between the main girl and the Prince/King Mursili. The main girl basically goes from nothing to becoming Queen and commands armies and shit. I read it when I was sixteen so please to shit on me for liking some of the sappy stuff in the story. So, if you want a slow burn romance that pays off with a satisfying ending I would recommend this one.
> 
> For guys: Ravages of Time...is a about the Romance of the Three Kingdoms, but from a specific perspective. Lots of war and battles.
> 
> And at last: Vinland Saga...Vikings. Enough said.


	14. Aegon

**Aegon**

Aegon felt a hint of fear, as he sat down in his father’s chair. He was no King nor did he want to be one in the near future, but he couldn’t escape his duties this time, for his father had decided to venture beyond the Wall to speak to the King-Beyond-the-Wall.

Thus, he had to preside over the small council in his stead and take up all the responsibilities that came with it. Truth be told, Aegon had barely been able to sleep last night and not even the cup of wine he had consumed in the morning had helped to calm his nerves.

His hands were shaking and his mouth felt dry, as he swept his gaze over the assembled men. There were Stannis Baratheon, Lord Monford Velaryon, Ser Gerold Hightower, Ser Kevan Lannister, Ser Richard Lonmouth, the old Grand Maester and at last Viserys and Gaemon. Viserys had been granted an honorary seat by his father and Gaemon had once been his squire and had asked to partake, a wish Aegon didn’t want to refuse. He liked their presence. It gave him the courage he needed.

“You might have heard that my Lord Father has decided to travel beyond the Wall, my lords,” Aegon said and touched his father’s folded letter in front of him. He had memorized the instructions by now. “And thus he granted me all rights to rule in his stead until he returns.”

“A good training for sure,” Lord Stannis added skeptically. He was his father-in-law, but he was blunt as ever. “But I assume he gave you instructions, your Grace?”

“He did,” Aegon told them and smiled. “And a very pleasant instruction…I am to organize a tourney in cooperation with Lord Edmure Tully to celebrate my sister’s betrothal to Lord Robin Arryn and to celebrate Lord Edmure’s betrothal to Lady Roslin Frey. The tourney not only meant to celebrate nearly eighteen years of peace, but also to celebrate my future co-regency.”

“Not only that,” Ser Kevan added and nodded his head in approval. “The income from the tourney will be a fine thing, though I have to admit that the taxes have been plentiful this year and we were able to repay another loan to the Iron Bank. We might even be able to afford a renewal of the Kingsroad up to the Goldroad. A good investment, your Grace, I say. Besides, has the King given you any details on how the gains from the tourney is going to be shared?”

“Half half,” Aegon replied and leaned back in his chair. “That is if we are prepared to pay half the costs. Lady Lysa is sadly not wiling to contribute. She claims the last harvest was not good.”

“Pfft,” Monford sighed. “I have many ships who travel back and forth from Gulltown, your Grace. There is enough corn in the Vale to feed half of the Seven Kingdoms. The only explanation for her lack of corn is that she is selling it to the Free Cities in hopes of gaining a higher price.”

“I doubt that,” Viserys said. “If it is true what Lord Monford said then the Lords of the Vale must be assisting their Lady with her treachery. A shameful thing, given that my brother is kind enough to betroth Princess Alysanne to Lady Lysa’s sickly heir. “

“I do not think so,” Ser Richard added. “I have looked into the matter thoroughly and come to the conclusion that only a handful of lords are not paying their taxes and that Lady Lysa is not lying.”

“Then why is she not giving their names?” Aegon asked. “To protect them?”

“To protect herself,” Lord Stannis explained. “She is a very anxious woman, is she not? She made many enemies in the Vale when she wed this lowly-born lording, this Petyr Baelish. The fact, that she allowed her son to become a squire for Ser Gerold is a testament to that. She must be afraid for her safety.”

Aegon swallowed hard and leaned forward to meet his father-in-law’s hard gaze. “Are you trying to say that the Lords of the Vale are still aiming to depose her?”

“Not openly of course, your Grace,” Jon Connington explained. “But Royce and his friends still wish to see Harrold Hardyng installed as Lord of the Vale and since Robin Arryn doesn’t look as if he is going to die in the near future, they are probably getting more impatient by every passing day. We are not sure, but it seems that Harrold Hardygn has married Myranda Royce in secret scarcely six moons ago.”

Aegon was speechless. Harry was his friend. He had never expected that he would do such a thing behind his back.

“Are you sure, Ser Richard?” Aegon asked.

“I am not sure, but it is very likely,” Ser Richard confirmed and clasped his hands together. “But to be sure, I suggest summoning Lord Hardying to court.”

“Better would be to punish him,” Lord Jon Connington said unhappily. “You cannot show weakness in face of such an outrageous behavior.”

Aegon didn’t like that answer, but Lord Connington was right. He needed to do something.

“Well, I am certainly not going to remain silent,” Aegon declared and tried to sound bold. “But summoning him at once would only make us appear desperate. Instead I suggest we do this: I shall speak a word with Harry when he attends the tourney. Perhaps he can shed a light on some of these accusations, but I also do not wish to endanger my father’s plans of peace. I hope you can understand this, my Lord Hand.”

Lord Connington didn’t appear pleased, but he accepted Aegon’s command as if he was the King.

“A fine idea, your Grace.”

Aegon was surprised by that, but then he might have just been more convincing than he thought possible. Perhaps it had helped that Shireen had made him rehearse how he was supposed to behave a good dozen of times on the previous day.

“I agree,” Lord Stannis said and sounded impatient to continue. “And now we should speak about this other matter…”

The rest of the morning they discussed land, inheritance and marriages disputes. Then, followed a brief break in which Aegon took a quick meal in company of Viserys and Gaemon before their meeting continued late into the evening when Ser Kevan Lannister gave them a detailed calculation of all tax incomes of the last year and the outstanding payments of the Iron Bank to finance this tourney and all the further investments his father had been planning for when he had left for the North.

The fourth hour had passed when they were finally finished. By then, Aegon’s mind was spinning due to all the details of Ser Kevan’s calculations.

Rhaenys had always had a knack for these kind of things and it made him wish that she was here.

“You seem very distraught, nephew,” Viserys remarked across the table. Gaemon was also there and occupied with picking apart his chicken. Aegon had suggested for them to join him for supper and they had happily agreed. “Yet, you did quite well if I may say so.”

Gaemon chuckled. “I think Ser Kevan’s detailed calculations were too much for him. At least they were for me.”

Aegon nodded his head in agreement. “I tried to sound interested, but I was half asleep.”

Viserys gave him a disapproving look. “Well, I listened, but I am no expert on these matters. I still suggest having Marwyn look over the accounts himself. Rhaegar always does that. He told me once that you can never trust a Lannister.”

“And yet they have this famous saying: a Lannister always pays his debts,” Aegon jested in return and lifted his cup. ”Isn’t that how the saying goes, brother?”

“It is, “ Gaemon confirmed, a hint of pleasure visible in his demeanor. “Yet, I do not quite understand why you think you cannot trust Ser Kevan. Why would father even employ him if he didn’t trust him?”

Aegon was taken back by his brother’s words. It was only a harmless jest, yet Gaemon seemed to have taken the insult to heart.

“A King cannot trust anyone,” Viserys told Gaemon. “Not even good men like Ser Kevan.”

“But that is not what you said,” Gaemon replied sourly. “You specifically talked about the Lannisters and about not trusting them. Tell me, brother, what makes them less trustworthy than other noble houses?”

“Lord Tywin was hiding away like a coward during the rebellion,” was the first thing that came over Aegon’s lips. “And he has always been far too ambitious.”

“And still…I do not understand how that makes Lord Tywin different than your mother’s family, brother,” Gaemon countered. “Your own Uncle was not very enthusiastic to send men into battle, but nobody holds it against him, at least not openly. The way I see it, both House Martell and House Lannister are lead by ambitious people. And isn’t that the reason I am going to marry Lady Myrcella? To satisfy these ambitions.”

“So much is true,” Viserys agreed hesitatingly. “It certainly has nothing to do with her beauty.”

“Good for me, then,” Gaemon replied gingerly and brought his cup to his lips. “That I can have a pretty bride and to play my role properly.”

Not long after, his brother left. Only Viserys remained, but then his Uncle would never forgo a proper dish.

“The boy is getting saltier any day,” Viserys said. “I think the Lannisters are having a bad influence on him.”

“He is just nervous because of his mother,” Aegon replied. “I am sure once they are reunited he will return to his old self.”

“Your words in the gods mouth,” Viserys replied and smiled. “But I could say the same about you. Forgive me for saying so, but you seem very much beside yourself since your wedding. Is your bride not to your satisfaction?”

Aegon didn’t know what to say. The truth was simple. He had always known who wanted to marry, though he couldn’t say that Shireen was displeasing. She was pretty enough and he had no hard time doing his duty. His body was playing the part readily, though it had taken some courage to overcome the displeasure of his and Rhaenys’ parting.

“All is well,” Aegon assured his Uncle and emptied his cup. “And speaking of my wife…I think she is expecting me.

He found her only in company of Viserys’ wife, Lady Ysilla Royce, her daughter Naerys and Jace.

Shireen was seated in a cushioned armchair, the two children sitting cross-legged beside her feet and were listening attentively to the story she was reading to them. It took him a moment before he realized what she was reading to these two young children. It was the Dance of Dragons.

Naerys was the first one to acknowledge his presence.

“Uncle Egg!” she exclaimed and rose to her feet. “Is it true?! Is it true?!”

She was so easily excited by things, be it cake or another silly idea that someone put into her mind, but then she was a child and Aegon couldn’t claim that he was any better at that age. His mother had complained often enough about his lack of patience.

“What do you mean?” Aegon asked and lifted the girl up into his arms. “Do you care to explain?”

Naerys chuckled and touched the silver brooch that was holding his cloak together. She was easily distracted and it took a handful of moments before she answered Aegon’s question.

“Oh, yes!” she said and grinned. “I forgot to explain! Mama said there will be a tourney! Is it true, Uncle Egg? Is it true?”

“It is true,” Aegon confirmed and carried her back to her mother’s side, who had observed the whole interaction with an amused smile. “There shall be a grand tourney, but I hadn’t expected that Shireen has already informed you about it.”

“Among women there is rarely a secret to be found,” Lady Ysilla explained and allowed Aegon to take a seat in the chair beside her and across Shireen. The table in front of him was covered with cakes, sweets and tea, though the cup beside Shireen looked untouched. “That is a lesson you ought to learn.”

“You are quite right,” Aegon said and returned her smile. “There is much I need to learn about women.”

“Will you continue reading?” Jace complained to Shireen, who answered his complaint with a warm smile.

“Not today,” she told him and leaned down to ruffled his silver hair. “Otherwise you won’t have any reason to visit me again, eh?”

Jace didn’t look convinced. “I would visit anyway and soon I will be able to ready anything. I am learning my letters every day. I am here because of Naerys. She cannot read.”

“I can read!” Naerys threw back angrily. “Better than you anyway!”

Jace flashed her a challenging smile. “We will see about that!”

“Wanna bet?” Naerys asked and nearly hopped from Lady Ysilla’s lap. “I can show you!”

“No bets today, sweetling,” Lady Ysilla said and pulled the girl backwards. “Or there will be no dish for you on the morrow.”

Then, she rose to her feet and smiled first at Shireen and then at Aegon.

“We ought to go anyway. It is getting late and it takes hours to get these two into bed.”

“Not me,” Jace complained and took Lady Ysilla’s other hand. “It’s all Naerys’ fault!”

They laughed and Naerys protested, but departed soon after, leaving only Aegon and Shireen.

“You are reading them the Dance of Dragons?” Aegon asked partly out of curiosity and partly because he had a hard time finding an appropriate topic to speak about.

“Why not?” Shireen asked and put her book away. “My father read it to me.”

Aegon was taken back by these words. He couldn’t imagine Stannis Baratheon reading to a child.

“I see,” he said and smiled, as he eyed her from head to toe. She looked pretty. The dresses her mother had commissioned for her before their marriage fit perfectly and this blue dress suited her pale complexion even better. “I just have a hard time imagining my father’s Master of Laws reading to a child. Especially, not the Dance of Dragons. It is a rather gruesome tale.”

“It is history,” Shireen explained and disappeared a moment later into the anteroom leading to her own chambers. “They will have to learn about it soon enough. Cuddling little children is never a good idea.”

When she came back, she was garbed in a white nightgown, her dark hair free from its braids and falling all the way down to her waist.

“Why did you not call for your ladies?” Aegon asked, as she helped him shrug off his cloak.

She smiled and patted his shoulder. “I could ask you the same? Where is Gaemon?”

“Gaemon is now a knight,” Aegon explained. “It is not appropriate for him to attend to me and like today he wanted to do something different. I suppose I should get myself a knew squire.”

“Then, you ought to choose well,” Shireen agreed and sat down on the bed, watching him from the distance, as he started to pull off his breeches and boots, leaving him only dressed in a white tunic. “The son of a high lord would be best. I think young Lord Arryn would be a good choice?”

Aegon grimaced at that. “You want to make this crybaby my squire?”

“Why not?” Shireen asked and patted his shoulder again. “And if he is a crybaby then it is up to you to make him a better man. You will also have need of him in the future. He is going to be wed to your half-sister and Ser Gerold has better things to do than to groom this crybaby.”

She was right, but he preferred Gaemon.

“I shall think about it,” Aegon promised and was suddenly tongue-tied, as her gaze searched his. He knew what she wanted, but it felt like a betrayal to her. “I promise.”

Aegon wanted to leave, but Shireen pulled on his arm rather firmly.

She sucked in a deep breath. “You gave me another promise. You said we would try again.”

Aegon remembered that promise and knew he could not back out of it again.

And it wasn’t like Shireen was wrong. He was expected to produce an heir and people would blame Shireen if it stayed that way.

Thus, Aegon banished Rhaenys out of his mind and pulled off his white tunic with one quick pull.

“I remember,” he said and placed his hands on her hips, his lips brushing over hers. They were soft and her body was pleasant enough. It didn’t take long until the heat arose inside him, but he was still more hesitant than he should be. “And I shall keep my promise.”

Shireen was different than him. She returned his kiss eagerly and soon Aegon found himself between her spread legs, but when he looked down at her, he stopped instinctively.

“May I try something different?” Aegon said, rose from between her legs and lay down behind her, his hands brushing over her breasts.

She gasped at his touch and when she rubbed her backside against his, he felt the heat return where it belonged. That Shireen had dark hair like Rhaenys helped.

It was so easy to close his eyes and allow the fantasy to take over.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, maybe it is just me being stuck inside for four weeks, but I am really depressed that Sanders lost again. Not because I supported him or are one of his followers. I like Warren just as much as him, as they are the only real progressive people who had chance to win (Yang also has some nice ideas) in this election and are more in line with my political views. It shows to me as a whole, that nobody wants to change and that trying to change something for the better makes you a bad person. This alone is signalled to me by the way the Democrats treated Sanders and his followers. Anyone who is not part of their special club is not worth listening to. Fuck them by the way. I hope Trump loses, but if the Democrats fucks this up again I hope their party dies too. Maybe that will bring forth a new party, but then I doubt that will ever happen in a fucked up system that is American politics. I even have a good name for them: the Undemocrats.


	15. Daenerys

**Daenerys**

Dany took one last glance at the mirror to make sure that she looked her very best. Allyria had arranged her hair in a good dozen of small braids and had placed single silver circlet atop her head. Her dress was quite simple and made of a bluish-silver color and cut in the northern style. Luckily, she already had a cloak with the Targaryen sigil on the back, though she wouldn’t even need one given that her nephew was also born of House Targaryen.

Even so, it was a nice gesture and it felt right.

“You look well,” Allyria complimented her for the hundred time that evening and patted her shoulder. “Better than well. We should go.”

Dany laughed and felt a rush of excitement, as she turned to look at her friend. Jeyne was also there, lingering at the door, her black cloak making her almost invisible in the dimly-lit chamber.

“Who else is going to be involved in this?” Dany asked her friend.

Allyria shrugged her shoulders and opened the door for her. “Young Lord Stark wouldn’t say, but I told Prince Aemon’s mother and sister about it. My Uncle will also play the witness for us.”

“A good thing,” Jeyne added approvingly. “Nobody would ever question the word of a man of the Kingsguard.”

Dany still felt unsure. Her mother wouldn’t find this proper given her view on the old gods, but then Dany really liked the idea of having a simple and fast wedding. She had never wanted a grand event and getting the blessing of the old gods couldn’t be bad. She would still be wed in a Sept once she returned home.

As expected, the path to the godswood was empty and only a handful of guardsmen could be seen on the battlements. Yet, as Ser Arthur had joined them along the way and they had put on their long flowing cloaks, they probably believed they were only taking a walk in the godswood.

Still, Dany gave Ser Arthur an apologetic smile.

“I feel sorry that you have to lie on my account, good Ser.”

Arthur Dayne grinned and waved his hand at her. “You should know that I am used to such adventures through your brother. Besides, it is for a good cause.”

“It is,” Dany agreed wholeheartedly.

When they reached the godswood, they found Lyanna, Alysanne, Arya and Rickon waiting for them. Rickon and Arya had even brought laterns, as the moon was not as full as it was supposed to be for a Northern wedding.

Only Robb and Aemon were nowhere to be seen.

“Where are they?” Allyria asked impatiently, as she turned to Lyanna, Rickon and Arya. “Young Lord Stark gave his promise.”

“And I have not forgotten!” Robb’s voice rang in their ears, as he and Aemon appeared suddenly between two tress. Dany had not even seen them, garbed as they were in their black cloaks.

Only when the both of them lowered their hoods were they recognizable in the darkness.

“You didn’t recognize us, did you, Lady Allyria?” Robb asked jestingly and received an icy glare in return.

“You did well,” she replied and crossed her arms in front of her. “I thought you were bragging.”

“We should continue,” Lyanna added softly and squeezed Dany’s shoulder, as she turned to Robb. “You know the words, don’t you?”

“I do,” Robb confirmed and smiled, as he walked towards the large heart tree. Its bark was ghostly white and a handful of red leaves littered the icy ground beneath the tree. Its red eyes were even uglier to behold and the bloody stream of tears that ran down its cheeks made Dany shiver, but also filled her with excitement. “I have been to Northern weddings, though a full moon would be better.”

“And why is that?” Jeyne asked curiously.

Robb shrugged his shoulders. “I wouldn’t know. It is just an old tradition.”

“Then, let us start,” Lyanna added and waved her hand at Arya. “Give me the latern. I am to give you away, Dany, but only if you don’t mind.”

“No,” Dany said and smiled. ”With Rhaegar travelling to the Wall it is only right that you are doing it. We are after all good-sisters.”

Lyanna beamed and lifted the latern, the light blinding Dany momentarily.

“Then, let us not waste any more time.”

As if conjured up by some invisible spell, fresh snowflakes were suddenly whirling down from the sky, as if the gods wanted to bless their joining.

“A good sign,” Alysanne added and looked at the crows that had taken up a seat in the branches of the weirwood. Their small eyes were watching them, as she took Lyanna’s arm while Aemon and Robb took position in front of the weirwood tree.

Lyanna walked her all the way backwards before turning around and walking all the way back to the weirwood tree.

The latern in Lyanna’s hand was moving up and down, as they walked. With every step, Dany’s heartbeat intensified, a constant pounding, almost like the constant rhythm of the drum.

“Who comes before the gods to be wed?” asked Robb, his voice nearly drowned out by the whispering of the wind.

“A maid noble, grown and flowered, Princess Daenerys of House Targaryen,” Lyanna answered for Dany and stopped in front of the tree. “Who comes to claim her?”

“A man grown and noble, Prince Aemon of House Targaryen,” Aemon answered and took her hand in his own. It was cold, but Dany felt as if she was aflame.

“Do you take her?” Lyanna asked and squeezed her hand tightly.

“I do,” Aemon replied and lifted his hand. Then, Lyanna turned to Dany and placed his hand into hers. He squeezed it lightly and came to stand in front of her.

There would be no exchanging of cloaks, as there was no need for it. They were both born of House Targaryen.

“Well, then it is done,” Robb said and cleared his throat. “I think you two know the rest.”

They did and not long after they sealed their marriage with a kiss. It tasted of snow and wine from the last supper. It was a frozen kiss of two dragons joined as one.

When all was said and done, Dany went to thank Allyria, Jeyne and Lyanna for their kindness. She gave them each a kiss or a hug before she shifted her attention back to Rickon and Arya.

“And you are really sure about this?” Arya asked jestingly and looked over at Aemon. “I mean…my cousin is not all too bad, but as far as I am concerned…marriage means that your life if over.”

Dany chuckled. The girl was just as blunt as Allyria.

“You are far too honest again, Arya,” Rickon remarked and bowed his head. It seemed Ser Arthur had already taught him some courtly manners. “Nobody wants to hear about your aversion for marriages.”

“Perhaps not,” Arya said and grinned at Dany. “But do not tell me that I didn’t warn you.”

“I shall take your advice to heart,” Dany added cheekily and turned at last to Ser Arthur. “I thank you. If the time comes, you will be prepared to give witness, won’t you, Ser Arthur?”

“Of course,” Ser Arthur said and patted Aemon’s shoulder. “But I do not think that will be necessary.”

“I hope so too,” Aemon said before he led her away, back to her chamber.

“Don’t be too loud!” Allyria jested and pulled a blushing Jeyne into her chamber. ”Remember, this is supposed to be a secret?”

“Is it,” Dany chuckled and it made her wish she had done this before. “It is.”

“Allyria truly knows no shame,” Aemon remarked beside her, as his hand brushed over her shoulder. “But then she is from Dorne. It is what I like about them. They are not so damn prudish, as the rest of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Dany laughed, closed the door behind her and when she turned around, she found that Aemon had already pulled off his cloak and was now working on his second boot. The first one lay already discarded on the ground beside her bed. No, their bed, although it would only be for tonight.

“You are slow,” Aemon teased and jerked his head at her. “In the past, you were always the fastest when it came to matters of the bedroom.”

Dany knew what he meant and was glad that she had chosen a simple dress. Only a handful of pulls were needed and she was stripped down to her white tunic and the woolen stockings she had worn beneath. She was just as quick to pull them off, leaving her as naked as her nameday.

“Now your turn,” Dany replied and stepped closer. She felt the familiar heat burn between her legs, as she watched him fumble with his breeches. “You better hurry. I have been waiting for three years.”

Aemon grinned, as she climbed into his lap and slipped her tongue into his mouth, his fingernails digging deep into her naked sin. The heat that washed her was more than pleasant and when he touched her breasts, a soft gasp left her lips. Beneath her, she could feel his hardness and his fingers were just as eager explore. They sought out her womanhood stirring her desires.

There was no hesitance and no calm, as Dany slipped him inside her. She rocked into him at a quick pace, her insides alight with fire. Yet, she recalled Allyria’s command and she slammed her mouth unto Aemon’s to drown out his gasps of pleasure. Dany herself had a hard time controlling her loud mouth and bit her lips, drawing blood, as she continued to set a quick pace. Already out of breath, Aemon flipped her over so she was lying on her back and then he grabbed her legs to wrap them tightly around his waist. The rest was a dance heat and pleasure.

“You did better than I expected,” Dany teased, as she rolled back to lie on her stomach, her legs dangling in the air and right in front of his face.

Aemon laughed, gave her a playful slap on her shoulder before he rose back unto his heels and jumped from the bed to stir the flames in the hearth. It was the first time that Dany had seen his numerous scars. It still astounded her that he had survived three long years beyond the Wall.

“Did the Wildlings do that?”

He turned around and took in the scar on his shoulder. He smiled.

“Oh, no. Leaf did that.”

“Leaf?” Dany asked and pulled the bedding up to her shoulders to warm her until the flames had returned to their old strength. “Who is that? A friend of yours?”

“Kind of,” Aemon replied and sat down at the edge of the bed. He didn’t seem cold at all, as naked as he was. “She was a Child of the Forest and she liked training me by means subtle torture.”

“Torture?” Dany prodded, for it hadn’t sounded as if he had disliked it. “What kind of torture?”

“My lack of eye makes it hard for me to use my sword like in the past,” Aemon explained. “Thus she blinded me with a cloth and made me train my hearing. Day after day, she would make me try hitting her with a stick and whenever I missed she would hit me with hers. It was an exhausting game, but very effective. Once I got better, she pulled off the cloth and my improved hearing made it possible for me to use my blade. Well, I doubt I will ever be as good as I was before, but I have learned so much more.”

“And that is?” Dany asked and pressed his hand to her lips. ”About these Others?”

“Yes,” he confirmed and nodded his head in confirmation. “I saw how they killed Ser Oswell, as if he was nothing but a child. I couldn’t kill them either, but someone saved me, a man called Bloodraven, the Bloodraven.”

Dany couldn’t help but to shake her head in disbelief. She had of course heard the tales, but by all laws of nature this man was supposed to be long dead.

“How can you be sure?”

“He looked exactly how he was described,” Aemon replied. “And he was indeed as much of a sorcerer as the tales promised. He can warg into animals, behold the past and the future and he probably knows more than anyone else in the world.”

“What else did he teach you?” Dany asked, excitement rising up inside her chest. “I mean besides allowing his servants to use this torturous sort of swordplay on you.”

“I am a warg,” he explained. “I can slip into the skin of animals, especially into my direwolf. At night, I sometimes walk in his body.”

Dany couldn’t believe it. “Truly, you can slip into the skin of an animal? How does it work?”

“It is due to my blood,” Aemon explained and smiled. He looked pleased that she showed so much interest in his abilities. “The First Men blood. Bloodraven told me that all my ancestors had such abilities.”

“It makes all sense!” Dany couldn’t help to exclaim and clapped her hands together. “Do you think it could also work with dragons?”

“Perhaps,” Aemon said and grinned. “But first we need a dragon and then we could try applying my warging abilities to this dragon. Speaking of dragons, I have another dragon egg. Bloodraven gave it to me.”

Dany didn’t believe her ears. “That would make four. Did he tell you where he got if from?”

“No,” Aemon replied. “But given his interest in sorcery, it does not surprise me that he has it. Sadly, he didn’t tell me how to hatch them. He can be a very secretive man and I am not sure what kind of game he is playing with us.”

“Well,” Dany said after a moment of silence had passed between them and she had moved closer, to settle back into his lap. “Only time will tell and regarding your other egg…I gave it to our son, but it hasn’t hatched either. I think there is more needed than just having an egg.”

“Perhaps,” he replied and smiled at her before he sealed her lips with his. “But I know that Bloodraven wouldn’t have given me this egg if he has no plans for it.”

…


	16. Cersei

**Cersei**

For Cersei it was like looking into a mirror whenever she saw her precious daughter. They shared the same angelic face, golden locks and jade eyes. One day, Myrcella might be the most beautiful maiden in the realm. Even so, none of that beauty had been enough to make Cersei or her daughter wife to the future King. No, it had been her mother’s plotting that had won Elia Martell her crown and now the Stark whore had taken her place.

The same had happened with her daughter. Myrcella had been forgotten in favour of Stannis Baratheon’s plain daughter. Her precious girl would wed a Prince, but only the third son. It was a true disgrace, but Cersei knew now that she was fighting a lost cause. She would never be Queen herself, not with the Stark whore coming back, but her daughter could be Queen one day and her grandson would sit the Iron Throne. This was a worthy a goal, a goal she intended to achieve at all costs.

It would be hard, she knew and the fact that the Stark whore’s oldest son would also return made it all the worse, especially because she had the suspicion that he might legitimize his little bastard Prince with Princess Daenerys.

“Do you think my dress will please Gaemon, mother?” Myrcella asked and grinned, as she whirled around. The golden dress glittered brightly in the candlelight and roused Cersei’s jealousy. Her little girl would soon marry her silver-haired prince and the worst was, he had been birthed by the Stark whore, the witch that had stolen Rhaegar from her. “Oh, I cannot wait to be wed.”

“I hear you,” Cersei replied and waved her hand at her daughter, indicating for her to come closer. “Let me take a look at you.”

Myrcella grinned and stepped closer to stand in front of Cersei.

“You do look like half a queen.”

Myrcella chuckled softly.

“Don’t be silly, mother. I will never be a queen.”

Cersei couldn’t believe her ears. Her precious daughter was far too kind for this world. She had too much of Jaime, as she was lacking any sort of ambition.

“You will be a princess, sweetling,” Cersei replied and kissed her cheek, after she had taken her hand in her own. “But only if you stop acting like a wallflower.”

Myrcella looked startled.

“I do not quite understand what you are trying to say, mother? I am no wallflower. Gaemon likes me, I know he does. And I don’t have a hard time liking him either. He is as handsome as the King and funny too. He is also a proper knight. He will marry me for sure and we shall be happy I think.”

“I mean that you should do what Princess Daenerys did,” Cersei explained. “You ought to get with child as soon as possible. They say that Princess Rhaenys is already expecting and given how lusty young Princes can be I do not think it will take long until Prince Aegon gets his wife with child as well.”

Myrcella’s bright green eyes widened in fear, but Cersei didn’t allow her to get away.

“But I do not think the King intends to see us wed before he returns from the North.”

“That is why you must do what needs to be done,” Cersei explained and pulled her little girl into a warm embrace. “You must make your silver-haired prince plant a little prince into your belly and marry him right after the plucking. I cannot claim to know the boy well, but what little I have seen of him makes me think that he is of the romantic kind, driven full of knightly values. I am sure of it.”

“But that would go against the King’s wishes,” Myrcella prodded, but Cersei wanted to hear no protest. She grabbed her face between her hands and looked deep into her jade eyes.

“The King is not here. All you need to know is what is between your legs, sweetling. You ought not to waste any more time.”

Myrcella swallowed hard and smiled obediently.

“Gaemon invited me for a ride through the Kingswood on the morrow. I suppose I can convince him.”

“You should take wine with you,” Cersei explained and smiled. “But not too much. A little bit makes men pliable like kittens, but too much of it makes their cocks soft and useless.”

Myrcella nodded her head and folded her hands in front of her. She looked very uncomfortable. “I shall head your advice, mother, but we ought to change. The Queen Mother is expecting us for supper. Lady Olenna, Lady Alerie, Lady Margaery, her brother Lord Willas, Princess Rhaenys and Lady Lynesse Hightower, Prince Aegon and Princess Shireen will also be there.”

Cersei felt only disgust when she thought of eating in company of all these tittering ladies. She hated the old crone Olenna, but the most hateful creature was Stannis’ self-important wife. Since her daughter had wed Prince Aegon she was strutting through King’s Landing as if she was Queen herself.

Truly, it was a burden Cersei had to endure. For her precious girl’s sake.

“You should put on the crimson dress. The Queen Mother complimented you on it last time.”

“I shall!” Myrcella declared and fluttered away to change into a new dress. “I shall!”

Cersei called for her own ladies to attend to her and made them brush out her hair until it shone like molten gold. Then, she put on a dress which was made of different layers of green and golden thread and had her handmaids place the golden hairnet with emeralds into her hair.

When she was satisfied with their work, Cersei called for her daughter and together they went to attend to the Queen Mother and her ladies.

Cersei couldn’t help but to frown when she saw Rhaenys Targaryen’s swollen belly, hidden beneath her wide Dornish robes.

Her mother had been the same. Cersei could remember well, how she had strutted around at the tourney of Harrenhall, heavy with Prince Rhaegar’s heir. Cersei had hated her more than anyone in that moment and had prayed every day that she would lose the child in a bed of blood, but none of that had happened. No, she had survived the birth of that boy and now he was the heir.

 _Perhaps the Dornish whore’s daughter will lose her babe_ , Cersei thought and brought her cup to her lips, but grimaced when she tasted it. The wine was not to her liking nor was the food, salmon roasted and spiced with hot peppers. They burned on her lips, but no one else seemed to share her displeasure at the Dornish food. Not even her own daughter and son, who were whispering and giggling across the table in company of Prince Gaemon, seemed to enjoy the meal.

Truly, her precious daughter was too infatuated with that boy, but then it might even bring her the grandson she needed, a grandson that might one day sit the Iron Throne. Cersei and her father would make sure of it.

Yet, that also meant that Cersei needed to prevent Prince Aegon’s wife to get with child at old costs. A goal that would be easier to achieve if the boy was not a lusty young stud. He had been hesitant to seek out her bed in the beginning or so she had been told, but now he was supposedly attending to her every night, a nightmare come true.

Still, she would wait and listen. Like a true lioness.

“You are so silent today, Lady Cersei,” a hated voice called her back to the present. It was Lady Lynesse Hightower, who was seated across her and beside Queen Mother Rhaella. She wore a far too revealing dress, but Lord Stannis didn’t seem to notice. At times, Cersei wondered if the grim man even had a real cock. Lady Lynesse Hightower was a pain in her ass, but she didn’t lack in beauty. “Where is your mind?”

As always, Cersei felt the need to strangle the woman, but smiled instead.

“I am very well, my Lady Lynesse,” she replied sweetly. “I was just savoring the wine and this fine Dornish food.”

She had lifted her head when she said these words to look at Princess Rhaenys who was seated beside Lady Olenna and her husband, Lord Willas Tyrell.

“You have chosen a fine dish for your visit at the capital,” Cersei said. “But isn’t it bad for the child to taste such hot peppers?”

Princess Rhaenys didn’t smile, as she looked at Cersei. It seemed, as if she was not really there.

It was not the only odd behavior Cersei had noticed that night. More than once she had seen Prince Aegon and his sister, share hidden looks, as if they were holding a secret argument over the table.

“My sister’s child is a dragon,” Prince Aegon pointed out at last. “I am sure he or she enjoys the heat.”

“He or she is also half a rose,” Rhaenys insisted and smiled tensely. “You should know that, dear brother.”

“And with a pinch of Dornish blood,” Lady Olenna added. “A fearsome mix!”

“Perhaps,” the Queen Mother agreed and eyed Rhaenys with a warm smile. “But we should not speak of Rhaenys’ child like that. Important is that this child is healthy.”

“Speaking of children,” Lady Lynesse added and looked at Cersei. “ I have been wondering that for a while, my Lady Cersei. Do you never miss the presence of a husband to keep you company? Have you ever thought of marrying again?”

 _You are one to talk_ , Cersei thought and clenched her teeth. _I doubt your husband has touched your rotten cunt since that plain runt of yours fell out of it._

“My Lady Mother was very fond my father. My father’s loss grieved her deeply,” Myrcella came to her aid.

“A worthy reason,” The Queen Mother agreed wholeheartedly. Cersei was baffled by her daughter’s display of diplomacy and when she saw the dumb expression on Lynesse Hightower’s face, she had never felt prouder of her precious girl.

 _She might make a good queen one day_ , Cersei thought. _Perhaps even better than myself if I had been granted the opportunity._

“You ought not to take Lady Lynesse’s words too seriously, mother,” her daughter said later after they retired and brushed her hand through Cersei’s golden locks. She was already wearing her nightgown. ”She is a sad woman who suffered many a misfortune.”

“She is a vile creature,” Cersei agreed and pulled on her daughter’s arm to pull her closer. “But you do not need to fret about this woman. I am a lioness of House Lannister. I will never bow to such a low creature and neither should you.”

Then, she smiled and touched her daughter’s cheek.

“You did well, but your task is not done yet, which is why you must go to bed and rest. You must be prepared to face your future on the morrow.”

Myrcella chuckled and kissed her cheek. “You have such a way with words, mother.”

…


	17. Viserys

**Viserys**

Viserys had a hard time keeping his nephew still. At first, Jace had behaved, but as they were getting ever closer to King’s Landing, he was starting to become very twitchy.

Viserys knew why. The boy was about to see his father or at least that is what Viserys had tried to explain to the nearly four-year-old boy. Truly, Viserys had not been happy when his sister had thrust this task upon him.

He was very fond of his sister’s son and it should have fallen to Dany to tell him about his father.

Yet, he also understood why she hadn’t done so far. Not long ago, there had been little hope that his nephew would ever return to them alive. It was clear that his sister hadn’t wanted to make the boy any fruitless hopes.

Even so, it was hard to explain to his nephew that his father was someone he had heard about in tales from the mouth of others. Naturally, he was constantly asking questions, some of which Viserys had a hard time answering.

Now was such a moment.

“Uncle,” his nephew asked and looked up. “Why did my father travel beyond the Wall?”

Viserys sighed and looked over his shoulder at Ysilla, who was riding with Naerys. His daughter was strangely pacified today, but only because Ysilla had used a clever technique to exhaust her. She had allowed her to stay up as long as she had wanted and therefore, their wild little girl was no snoring softly in her mother’s arms.

“Because he had matters to attend to on behalf of your grandfather.”

As expected, the little boy wasn’t particularly satisfied with his answer.

“Shireen read to me a story about the North. It was about a man named Brandon who built this Wall. Did my father help them make it bigger?”

“No,” Viserys replied and exhaled deeply. “I think you are a bit too young to understand these matters. All you need to know is that your father is happy to see you.”

“Did mother told you that in her letter?” his nephew asked in return, his gaze still resting on Viserys.

“She did,” Viserys confirmed, though that was not the only thing she had to written him. She had also informed him that they were wed. “And that is why we are going to King’s Landing. To see your father and your grandmother.”

“I have never seen her,” Jace said and smiled. “Is she as old as gran gran?”

Gran gran was his mother, a name that never failed to amuse him.

“Far from it. She is rather young and I doubt she has a single grey hair.”

“And my father,” Jace said and beamed. “He is named after the Dragonknight, isn’t it?”

“They share the same name,” Viserys confirmed. “But he was named after grand-uncle Aemon, who resides as a maester at the Wall.”

“I see,” Jace said and pulled on Viserys’ arm, who had lifted his head to take in at the rode ahead. In the distance, he could already see the first glimpse of the Kingswood. “May I ask one last question?”

Viserys noticed that Ysilla was watching their exchange. She was as fond of that boy as if he was their own.

“One more question,” she said and brushed her hand over their daughter’s hair. “But enough now. Your Uncle has to focus on the road ahead.”

Jace grinned and pulled on Viserys’ arm, as he whispered in his ear. “Do you think my father will be disappointed that I have such a horrid name?”

Viserys chuckled.

“Why is your name horrid?”

“Because I am named after this bastard prince who fell from his dragon,” Jace replied unhappily. “Shireen read the story to us…the Dance of Dragons.”

Viserys frowned at that.

“Who can say whether Prince Jacaerys was really a bastard?” Viserys asked his little nephew. “And even if he was a bastard…he was also brave enough to ride a dragon. I think your name is perfectly fine.”

Jace didn’t seem convinced.

“But the book said it,” Jace insisted. “And Shireen said her measter said it was so...It sounds as if it is really bad to be a bastard.”

Viserys realized then that he had reached the end of his wits.

This was not a topic he could approach without his sister’s approval.

“Listen, nephew. I do not know why my sister chose your name, but I think she did it because she wanted you to be named after a dragon rider and Prince Jacaerys was one, whether he was a bastard or not.”

Jace finally smiled. “Does that mean I can be one too?”

Viserys was surprised to hear that. He hadn’t been aware that the boy really understood what it meant to be a bastard.

“Who said you are a bastard?” Viserys asked.

“Lady Myrcella’s brother,” Jace said. “He said it to Gaemon…who told him to shut up about it.”

Viserys was not surprised. The Lannister boy was as rotten person.

“Listen, nephew,” Viserys replied. “You are no bastard. You are a prince of House Targaryen and not a bastard. Of course, there are those who do not think that way. Lord Tywin is one of them and he is putting dangerous ideas in the head of his grandson, but you mustn’t show that you are affected by his words. It would make us appear weak and seed further doubt. Do you understand, nephew?”

His nephew nodded his head. “So you want me to pretend that he never said it?”

“Yes,” Viserys confirmed. “I want you to act as if he never said these things.”

“I think I can do that, Uncle.”

Kings Landing smelled just as bad as Viserys recalled. Yet, the warm sunlight touching breaking through the thick grey clouds made up for the unpleasant stink.

Even so, not many people were out on the street today, as they rode up Aegon’s Hill, but it was drizzling.

When the gates of the Red Keep opened for them, it was raining in buckets and Ysilla was quick to get the children inside to take off their soaked clothing. Naerys complained, but Jace was soon seated before the hearth and had changed into fresh breeches and a white tunic.

It made him think of his nephew, who had arrived yesterday.

Viserys was surprised that he hadn’t come to greet them, but Dany might have asked him to approach this meeting carefully.

His suspicions were confirmed when his mother came to see them shortly after. Viserys was surprised how well she looked, for the last moons she had suffered from another bout of illness. Today her face was sparkling like a star.

“You two are getting taller every time I see you,” his mother complimented each child after she had pulled them into a tight embrace. Naerys was quick to recount everything she had seen on their travel here, but Jace was strangely silent. He hardly spoke, his gaze repeatedly searching the room, as if he hoped that his gran gran had hidden his mother and father somewhere. “I am sure your mother will be pleased to see you, sweetling.”

Jace’s face lightened up immediately and he leaned into his grandmother’s embrace.

“Where is mother?”

“She is coming soon,” her grandmother assured him. “They arrived very late last night and were in dire need of rest. They also didn’t know you would arrive today.”

Jace pouted. “I want to see her now.”

“You are all wet,” Naerys said. “You have to get dry or you will get sick.”

“Naerys is right, sweetling. You need to get dressed and then you can meet them.”

Jace nodded his head.

“Very well, grandmother.”

They spent another hour in each other’s company before Viserys and Ysilla went to change their wet garb, leaving the children in company of their grandmother.

And when all was said and done, they entered the queen’s ball room, a large hall that was usually reserved for larger feasts but was empty today.

Dany was the first person he saw.

She looked beautiful, but she also seemed nervous. Beside her followed Princess Shireen in a gown of violet silk and Aegon in black-and-red. At last, came Gaemon with Lady Myrcella at his arm. Only Rhaenys and her husband were missing, though his mother had informed them in their last letter that she was currently in King’s Landing.

Viserys had hardly recognized Aemon. He was taller than he recalled and his face seemed longer and shaper. The lacking eye, that was hidden beneath a black patch of leather, gave him a frightening appearance.

Aemon seemed distant and tense, his whole eye searched for the boy in Dany’s arms.

His face was unreadable as ever, but it seemed his nephew was lost to his own emotions, for he didn’t say a single word.

It was Jacaerys who broke the silence.

“Why do you only have one eye?” the boy asked and grinned. “Are you a pirate?”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry...I had a writer block for this story and the fact that I haven't had meaningful social contact in the last two months is kinda making me depressed...so I was not in the mood either to write. 
> 
> The next chapter however is mostly written: It will have a time jump and bonding time between everyone, including Jon x little Jon. It is the first chapter of the tourney...which will be told through four or five povs (some important stuff happens there) and then we go to the Blackfyre stuff and war.
> 
> No white walkers in this storyline...I am kinda tired of writing them or even thinking of them.
> 
> I think I will do one week updates for this story again. Weekend probably.


	18. Aemon

**Aemon**

“You look even scarier than usual,” Dany jested when she eyed Jon’s garb. It was all black, safe for the crimson cloak around his shoulders. His missing eye covered with a leather patch only added to his fearsome appearance. “But that will earn you many admirers at the tourney.”

“You think so?” he asked. “But I won’t partake in the melee. I shan’t embarrass myself.”

“Prince Aemond was a fierce swordsman despite his lacking eye,” Rhaenys pointed out beside Dany. She was seated in an armchair, her dark hair falling in a long braid over her shoulder. Her stomach was swollen and she looked perpetually upset. “I don’t see why you wouldn’t even try.”

Aemon didn’t agree and jerked his head at Robb, who had been admiring the tapestries covered with swirling dragons of black-and-crimson. They had been a gift by Lord Darry to Aegon’s wedding, who had in turn gifted them to Aemon and Dany as a belated wedding gift. Now the tapestries were gracing their chambers in Riverrun. Dany liked them, but Aemon cared little about such splendour.

“What about you, Stark? Will you partake in the melee?”

Robb looked up and smiled. “Not this time. I think I shall partake in the joust.”

“The joust?” Rhaenys asked curiously. “Well, then you will have fierce competition. Harry and Ser Loras will partake in the joust as well. This time it won’t be a mere squire’s tourney.”

“I know,” Robb replied. “But I am no longer a boy anylonter. I may be no knight, but my siblings are watching. Someone needs to fend for the honor of Winterfell.”

“I am sure you will do well,” Dany added in obvious amusement. “Perhaps a lady is part of the reason?”

Robb blushed and avoided her gaze. “It is for my father do decide on my future match.”

“So much is true,” Aemon added his voice. “Speaking of your siblings…Any word of your family?”

“Aye,” Robb confirmed. “They are on their way, but you know how it is. A winter storm and the travel will be delayed.”

“Well, the tourney is not on the morrow,” Rhaenys replied and brushed her hand over her belly. The babe must have been kicking her fiercely, for she had grimaced a moment ago. “I am sure they will come in time.”

With these last words, she had left them, aided by Dany who led her all the way back to her chambers not far from their own. As expected, Willas Tyrell had excused himself from the tourney, claiming that he was feeling ill.

Aemon knew why. Willas Tyrell held no love for tourneys, due to an accident that had crippled him. Rhaenys didn’t seem at all bothered by his absence, though. In fact, she seemed almost carefree whenever she was in company of Dany, Jace, Ysilla and Naerys. The rest of the time she was tense and watching everyone around her warily..

Sometimes, they spent hours running about the godswood, picking flowers, and sitting in the grass. Only yesterday, Aemon had seen Rhaenys playing the harp for the ladies that had come to Riverrun to pay witness to the tourney.

Many more lords and ladies would arrive soon, far too many to be hosted in Riverrun, but that was no problem.

 _There is enough space for pavilions around Riverrun for half the realm_ , Lord Edmure had claimed.

Aemon had known him in the past but, he had changed much since he had left King’s Landing. He was very cheerful these days, spending day and night with Lady Roslin and treating her almost like a queen.

Aemon wouldn’t be surprised if Lord Walder Frey’s sixth daughter wasn’t already carrying a small fish beneath her heart, but then he doubted old man would give a fuck.

For him it must be a dream come true, to see his daughter wed to the Lord of Riverrun.

“Dany,” Aemon said upon her return. “Do not tease Robb about Lady Allyria. It is hard enough for him to be the son of an honourable man like Lord Eddard Stark. Besides, I doubt Lady Stark would approve of such a match. Even she must have heard the rumours about Allyria.”

Dany frowned at that. “Allyria is a Dayne. One of our ancestors was a Dayne and queen to King Maekar. If Dyanna Dayne was fit to be a queen for King Maekar I am sure Allyria is fit to be a bride for your cousin.”

Dany had spoken so fiercely that it was hard to refuse her.

“Anyway,” he replied and knelt before her, gathering his hands in hers. “Why are you so obsessed with matching my cousin with Lady Allyria?”

“She is my friend,” Dany replied. “And I want her to be happy.”

“And I think you are overestimating your abilities,” Aemon chided her and brushed her silver hair from her shoulders. “Robb might desire her, but he will not wed her.”

“Perhaps not,” Dany chuckled. “But I am going to try anyway.”

Aemon sighed. There was no way to reason with her when she was like this. It also pleased him to see her in such a good mood.

She had been nervous about his meeting with their son, but now she was at ease. This pleased Aemon, but even more pleased him that he was finally home.

“I think I should attend to Jace,” Dany explained at last and rose to her feet. “There is only so much time I can allow him in company of Lady Ysilla’s daughter. Naerys is quite the handful and often it is impossible to get him into bed afterwards.”

Aemon nodded his head in understanding.

“Let me change…,” Aemon began, but Dany shook her head.

“Go to Aegon and Gaemon. They have need of your presence. They are quarrelling all day long when no one is there to keep them apart. And your mother’s presence isn’t helping either. I shall join you once I have Jace settled for bed.”

Aemon frowned. He was not looking forward to this supper. He had been happy to see his brothers again, but he hadn’t expected to find them so changed.

Aegon was now a man grown and wed. And Gaemon was a stubborn young man, who seemed think a bit too highly of himself since he had been knighted and betrothed to the Lannister girl.

He hadn’t spoken more than a handful of sentences with their mother and even Alys had complained that he spent more time with the Lannister girl than her.

“I shall do as you say,” Aemon assured her and called upon his new squire. It was Edric Dayne, Arthur’s nephew.

“Help me,” he told Edric. “To get out of this garb.”

Ned laughed and was quick at work. He was much like Ser Arthur. kind-hearted and quiet, but with a sharp tongue, if the situation demanded it.

“Will your cousin come as well, your grace?” he asked after he had brought him his cloak. “I had hoped to see _her_.”

Aemon gave him a curious glance. “Sansa is coming.”

Ned Dayne blushed. “I wasn’t speaking of her. I was referring to her sister.”

Aemon was stunned by that revelation. What was it with the Daynes and the Starks? But then Edric would be a match Lord Eddard Stark would approve of. Ned was the future Lord of Starfall and Arya would like it in Dorne.

Aemon also didn’t want to embarrass the boy.

“She is coming.”

“I thank you,” Ned Dayne replied. “I thank you so much.”

With these words, Aemon had left the boy to find his brothers and the rest of his family.

The great hall of Riverrun was made of redwood. The floor was polished and the walls covered with rich tapestries, showing depictions of hunt and war.

The food being served was even better: fresh salmon, accompanied by turnips and potatoes. There were cakes too: fresh apple cakes and pudding with strawberries and whipped cream.

Rhaenys had eaten a whole plate, though Aemon was sure Jace and Viserys’ little girl would have enjoyed such a dish even more.

Yet, he understood that Lord Edmure Tully had no patience for children during an official visit like this. That way the children also had more time to amuse themselves among each other.

“I heard Lady Minisa is going to pose as queen for the tourney?” Rhaenys asked Lord Edmure. “A fine idea if I may say so. I am sure she will be beautiful.”

“My daughter is enthusiastic enough,” Lord Edmure replied. “It was after all Roslin’s idea.”

Lady Roslin blushed. “She needed a bit of convincing, but I think she will accept me in time.”

“I am sure of that,” his mother added. “It is hard to dislike you, my lady.”

“Even so you seem more like sisters to me than mother and daughter,” Gaemon added sharply. It was his way these days. “But that should be no surprise. She is only a handful of years younger than you.”

Lady Roslin paled. “So much is true.”

“I am sure all will be well,” Princess Shireen added and glared at Gaemon across the table. “All in good time. Speaking of marriages…We were saddened to hear that we couldn’t attend yours, dear brother. One might think that someone of Lady Myrcella’s standing would have preferred a lavish wedding.

If Lady Myrcella was insulted by Shireen’s remark it didn’t show on her face.

“Having Gaemon is enough for me. Besides, I am sure your wedding was enough to empty the coffers of the realm.”

Aemon could almost hear Rhaenys gasp’ across the table. He was surprised how quickly the relationship between the two ladies had changed.

Aemon hardly knew Princess Shireen and Lady Myrcella, but they had never been so hostile in the past.

“The realm is well off I hear,” Aemon added quickly and lifted his cup. “Otherwise we wouldn’t be here, celebrating a tourney in honor of my sister’s betrothal.”

“My brother speaks true,” Alys added next to their mother. “The realm prospers and we shall have a fine tourney. We ought not to quarrel but enjoy our time. Don’t you think so as well, Gaemon?”

Gaemon forced a smile over his lips. “If you say so, sweet sister.”

“Gaemon was acting like an ass,” Aemon complained to Dany after supper, who was occupied with taming Jace’s hair. “I have never seen him like this.”

“He is angry,” Dany replied and held Jace in place, who was listening attentively. “I was also angry at times and you know how pouty I would act then. He will get over it once he and your mother have gotten over their issues.”

“My mother tried speaking to him several times, but he is giving her the cold shoulder,” Aemon replied. “He also seems hell-bent on making enemies.”

“He is young and hot-headed,” Dany replied. “Not unlike you and Aegon at that age.”

“I would have never insulted a high lord,” Ameon pointed out, but Dany shook her head in silence.

“You threatened once to kill Oberyn Martell,” Dany pointed out. “For a good reason.”

“Gaemon has no such reason,” Aemon replied. “He is just being stupid.”

“We are all stupid at times,” Jace pointed out. “Naerys most of all!”

Dany gave him a slap over the head. Not hard, just a small pat that made their son giggle.

“Says the one who forgets using the privy at times,” Dany replied. “Naerys is just forgetful, as are you.”

Jace then looked at Aemon. He was still hesitant towards him, but that was to be expected.

“Will you show me your wolf?” Jace asked.

Aemon was surprised by his question.

“Sure,” Aemon replied and leaned forward. “I am sure Ghost will be pleased to meet you.”

“And he won’t eat me?” Jace asked, but didn’t look afraid. “Naerys said that wolves eat little dragons.”

“Naerys is lying,” Aemon assured him. “Ghost only eats meat.”

“I said she is stupid,” Jace said and smiled. Dany took his hand. “She is always making up stories.”

“And you are doing the same,” Dany reminded him and pulled him along. He turned and look at Aemon, biting his lips, as if he was wondering how to behave towards him. In the end, he left without saying another word.

“You can touch him, you know,” Dany replied later after she had brought Jace to bed. “He is not made of glass.”

“He hardly knows me,” Aemon pointed out. “I don’t know how to act.”

“And that makes him even more insecure,” Dany pointed out. ”You are the one who must act. He is just a child.”

“I shall,” Aemon promised and smiled. “I promise.”

…


	19. Robb

**Robb**

“You look marvellous, brother,” Sansa praised his armour. “Like a true knight!”

Robb blushed. He felt like was some lady, who was wearing her prettiest dress, though he was wearing plain and simple amour.

“I do not know,” Robb replied and brushed his hand over the silver plume. “Isn’t that a bit much?”

“Why?” Bran asked and grinned. “Knights here in the South look like this. And it is a grand tourney.”

“Bran speaks true,” Sansa said. “You cannot look like a common hedge knight when you are riding for Winterfell. Mother would agree.”

“Mother told Uncle Edmure to commission this armour for me if it didn’t escape you, sister,” Robb sighed and pulled off his helmet. Then, he shifted his attention to Arya, who was seated on the rug, Nym resting beside her. “What do you think, Arya?”

“You look silly with that plume,” Arya replied bluntly as ever. “The wolf on the helmet looks fearsome enough.”

Robb smiled and held out the helm towards Arya. “Well, then. Go and ask for the helmet to be remade. I shall head your advice in this matter, dear sister.”

Arya grinned from one ear to the next, Bran following after her.

Sansa looked disappointed.

“It would have made you look very gallant,” Sansa said and crossed her arms in front of her. “But if you don’t want to listen, I cannot help you, brother.”

Robb felt guilty when he heard this.

“Sansa,” Robb said and held her back. “I didn’t mean to insult you, but that is just not me. I am sure none of father’s lords will think ill of you for playing the southron lady, but I will be the future lord of Winterfell. I need to show them that I am father’s true successor. Especially now that he is at the Wall.”

Sansa sighed. “I know that. It is just so wonderful. I never thought I would see the South.”

“Yet, you don’t seem completely happy,” Robb said and touched her shoulder. “What is amiss?”

“I have yet to give away my favour,” she replied shyly. “But I am afraid to ask.”

Robb was not surprised to hear that.

“Who do you have in mind?”

“You know who,” Sansa whispered.

Robb sighed and decided it was time to have a proper talk with his sister.

“Listen, sister. Our cousin is already otherwise engaged. You know it.”

“Mother says he is not going to marry the princess after she had an illegitimate child,” Sansa pointed out. Robb was silent for a moment, unable to believe that his mother would tell his sister such nonsense.

“They also say the princess cannot have more children,” Sansa added and would have probably said more if Robb had not pulled on her arm to silence her.

“Listen, Sansa,” Robb told her and lowered his voice, so nobody could overhear them. “This will never be, no matter what mother told you. Aemon is already wed. I was there when it happened. He only kept it hidden because he didn’t want to wait for his father’s return.”

Sansa’s eyes grew impossibly wide. She looked as if Robb had slapped her over the face.

“But the child…why?”

“Because the child is _his_ ,” Robb told him. “It is simple as that.”

“But why did he never acknowledge the boy?” Sansa asked in disbelief.

“It is complicated,” Robb explained. “And I ask you not to bring it up. Besides, father has other plans for you. You should know better than that.”

Sansa bit her lips in displeasure and pulled her hand away. “I rather marry Hodor than a Bolton.”

When Sansa was gone, asked the squires to help him pull off his armour. Then, he climbed up the battlements to get a view over the Riverlands. The lands his Uncle ruled.

It were beautiful lands. Green and rich in soil. The three rivers crossing his mother’s home were even more beautiful to behold, but these days the meadows around the castle were hidden beneath tents and pavilions.

Truth be told, it was a much smaller tourney than Harrenhall and not all of his father’s lords had come to attend, but that hardly mattered when all the other important lords of the realm were here.

There were the lions: Lord Tywin had not come himself, but he had sent his brother, his wife and two sons. Lady Cersei was there as well, as the Queen Mother’s lady-in-waiting. There was also Myrcella as Gaemon’s wife and of course Joffrey, her golden-haired brother and his wife’s entire entourage.

Looking at the good dozens of tents made of green-and-cold cloth one could believe half the Tyrell family was here, but the contrary was the case. Lady Margaery had was only accompanied by her grandmother and her other two brothers, Ser Garlan and Ser Loras Tyrell.

Of the Stormlords only the most loyal ones had come, but that was no surprise. The same could be said about the Vale lords, for some held no liking for the match between Sweetrobin son and his cousin Alys.

The Riverlords were a different matter. Nearly all of them had come, but that was no surprise. It had been a long time ago, that a tourney like this had been held in their dominion.

Robb had been introduced to all of them by his Uncle Edmure, who had also gotten him horribly drunk and had left him in the hands of a pretty servant girl.

Robb had felt ashamed, but his pounding head had been even worse.

Whenever he saw Princess Daenerys’ friend Allyria it grew only worse, but he would be a hypocrite if he showed weakness like this.

He had his duty..

 _She is a pretty dream and nothing more_ , he reminded himself and climbed down from the battlements and crossed the courtyard. _Like spring that is not meant to lasts._

There, he found familiar faces, practicing and laughing. Domeric was the oldest among them, but there were also Cley Cerwyn, Daryn Hornwood and Torrhen Karstark, the son of Lord Rickard.

His daughter was here as well, Robb knew. His mother had told him so more than once. Lord Manderly had also sent his oldest son with his two granddaughters, both sweet as summer.

Robb knew he would have to choose one of them as his bride, but then his thoughts always strayed back to sweet Allyria Dayne…

It was a pain in the ass.

“Robb,” Domeric called out to him. “Are you done with fitting your armour?”

“Aye,” Robb replied. “And now I ought to go to bed to get some proper sleep.”

Domeric nodded his head in agreement. “I always get a cup of wine. It helps me to calm my nerves.”

Robb chuckled. “My cousin said that Prince Aegon is much more nervous than his sister.”

“No wonder,” Domeric agreed. “He carries a heavy burden. There also seems to be discord in the royal family.”

Robb had noticed that too, but he didn’t wish to speak about this matter with Domeric. He is his friend, but also a Bolton.

“I didn’t notice,” he said and inspected Domeric’s armour. It was well-made and Domeric was a good jouster. So much Robb knew. “Speaking of the tourney. I think you should ask my sister’s favour.”

Domeric’s demeanour darkened at once. “Your sister is not interested in me at all.”

“She is a silly girl,” Robb replied. “And she will not refuse you if you ask her. She is too lady-like for that.”

Domeric nodded his head. “Perhaps I should try my luck with your younger sister.”

“Arya would never marry you,” Robb replied. “I am not even sure if she will marry at all.”

“Well, you know,” Domeric replied. “My father is as impatient as your mother.”

“I know,” Robb replied and patted his shoulder. “But you do like my sister, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Domeric replied. “She is a dream come true. There is no fairer maid in the realm.”

Robb chuckled. “Have you told her that?”

Domeric flushed. “Of course not. That would be unmanly.”

“Well,” Robb whispered. “But my sister loves these kinds of displays of affection. I think you should try.”

Domeric grimaced. “And my make half the North laugh at me?”

Robb shrugged his shoulders. “Better to have them laugh at you than to marry some girl you don’t want.”

“Perhaps,” Domeric said and grinned. “Which means I must win, don’t I? Your sister would like to be Queen of Love and Beauty, wouldn’t she?”

“She would,” Robb said. “But you certainly have fierce competition. Ser Loras is the finest rider in the realm. Be glad Aegon does not partake.”

“I am glad,” Domeric replied. “But I heard you are also entering the lists?”

“Of course,” Robb replied. “I promised Bran. He expects me do represent Winterfell and he is going to play squire for me. My uncle Edmure is also partaking, defending his bride´s honour.”

“Well, I am just glad the rest of the Kingsguard keeps out of it. Or this whole tourney would be a waste of time.”

“True,” Robb agreed and smiled. “I am only surprised Harry came at all. Have you heard the rumours?”

“Rumours?” Domeric asked. “What rumours do you speak of?”

“Harry is wed.”

Domeric shook his head in disbelief.

“Who the hell would marry this ungrateful sod?”

“Lady Myranda Royce.”

Domeric whistled and would have probably said more, but the presence of another person starteled him.

It was Lady Allyria Dayne.

“Dom,” Robb said and waved his hand at his friend. “I think someone is vying for my attention.”

Dom grinned and patted his shoulder. “Go then, but remember: the ladies of the North have come to see you joust. You cannot disappoint them.”

Robb frowned at that remark and shifted his attention to Lady Allyria.

His heart nearly made a jump when he saw how lovely she looked.

“I heard you are riding in the joust,” she replied. “Well, there is something I want to ask of you.”

Robb was startled.

She had never made the impression that she was interested in him.

“What is it?” he asked and tried to appear indifferent. “How may I help you, my lady?”

“Well,” she said and bit her lips. “It seems my cousin Edric has taken a fancy to your sister…Lady Arya. Could you ask her to give Edric her favour? He is going to ride to fight in the squire’s melee. He is such a shy boy.”

Robb was sorely disappointed. “I am not sure my sister will agree. She is stubborn as a mule.”

“Much like me, then,” Allyria said softer than usual. “Well, I would be thankful if you tried, my lord.”

Robb was surprised how polite she was. The words came out of him like a rush of fresh water.

“Perhaps you would, my lady…,” he began, but Lady Allyria cut him off before he could say more.

“That would be unseemly,” Lady Allyria said. “You know who I am and it would shame your family. Forget about it, my lord.”

It was then, that he finally understood what was standing in his way.

It was all about his Uncle Brandon.

A ghost was standing in his way.

And duty.

…


	20. Rhaenys

**Rhaenys**

For weeks, the laborers had worked for this moment. _The Tourney of the Trout and the Dragon_ , the guests were calling it and several week turns later, the meadows around Riverrun were covered with colourful tents and pavilions.

The tracks lay several hundred feet away from the castle, but it was the best place she had been told, as the ground was even and straight. Rhaenys had only nodded her head at this and had watched every morn how they had erected the wooden balustrade that was now decorated with colourful banners and filled to the brim with lords and ladies.

In the past, tourneys filled her with excitement, but not today. It saddened her that Willas had not accompanied her. She understood why he felt that way about tourneys, but he was a man grown and at times she felt embarrassed that he was hiding out of shame about his crippled leg.

 _You are not any better_ , she knew. _You betrayed him._

Rhaenys shook her head to chase away her fears. True, she had lain with Aegon in a sudden burst of childishness, but she had also lain a good dozen of times Willas after her return to Highgarden. Even the Maester had been unable to tell when the child had shown no suspicion whatsoever after he had overcome the shock of her sudden pregnancy.

Under other circumstances, Rhaenys would have been over the moon to finally have a child, but guilt was gnawing at her heart.

Only the Tyrells had been truly happy about it. Lord Mace had not even allowed her to leave her room for a while after the Maester had claimed that the first moons was the most dangerous time for pregnancies, but now she was finally able to breathe again. Still, the Lord of Flowers had sent his daughter and grandmother to watch over Rhaenys while she was enjoying herself in the Riverlands.

And so far, Rhaenys had enjoyed herself, despite the ups and downs previous days.

Especially, seeing her family again had pleased her. Aemon was pleasant company and Aegon could be pleasant company as well if she didn’t avoid him at every turn.

There were also Alysanne and Gaemon. Alysanne had changed so much from the little girl Rhaenys had know. And her brother Gaemon, well, he had grown quite proud since he had wed his Princess Myrcella.

It was a state of affairs that did not only worry Queen Lyanna, but also Rhaenys. She doubted Myrcella held any malice towards Aegon and his wife, but she was still a Lannister.

“Rhae,” Daenerys’ voice called her back to the present.. “The melee is in full swing and you are staring at your skirt.”

Rhaenys felt sligthly embarrasseed when she looked at Daenerys. She was smiling and twirled her silver lock around her fingers. Aemon sat beside her and next to him were her Uncle Viserys, his wife Lady Ysilla and her daughter Princess Naerys, who was standing near the wooden railing, watching down on the field where a good dozen of knights were hacking and slashing at each other. A little further up, sat her brother Aegon in the King’s place. Next to him was Lord Edmure Tully, his wife Lady Roslin, his daughter Lady Minisa and of course her sister Alysanne with young Lord Arryn. It was the first time, Rhaenys had seen them all. Lady Minisa was a dainty girl with light auburn hair and a delicate health, but the same couldn’t be said about young Lord Arryn. He was a quite short for his age, but his cheeks were red like apples and he was smiling like most young boys do at tourneys.

“I was lost in thoughts,” Rhaenys apologized and shifted her attention to the field that was now covered with a cloud of smoke. The clinking of armour and the cries of the crowd made it hard to concentrate on what was going, but once the first participants and had been weeded out even Rhaenys developed some sort of investment in the melee.

She found several familiar faces among the crowd. There was Ser Lyle Crakehall, one of Cersei Lannister’s finest swords. Lady Brienne, whom Princess Shireen had chosen as her sworn sword and Domeric Bolton, Robb’s friend. Rhaenys barely knew him, but he seemed a decent young man and skilled with the sword. She saw him best two other young competitors until he faced Ser Lyle Crakenhall. They had exchanged dozen of quick blows before Ser Lyle had dealt Domeric Bolton a savage cut to his leg, thus bringing him out of balance and making him disappear in the cloud of dust.

At last, only Lady Brienne and Ser Lyle remained. They gave each other no chance to rest. One blow followed after another, pushing the lady further backwards. Rhaenys felt for the lady, her eyes following every single movement.

Next followed a hard blow to her head, but the lady evaded the attack with her shield. Like a bull, she pushed herself forward and bashed her shield into her enemy’s face, but it was no use. The man was like a statue of stone and the lady could not vanquish him.

In return, he grabbed her shoulder and pushed her to the ground. They quarrelled with each other for a while before Ser Lyle found his footing again and placed tipped his blade to her neck.

Ser Lyle had won the melee competition.

Rhaenys could not help but to notice the displeasure on Princess Shireen’s face, as she watched how the Lannister man received his honours from the crowd.

“He is a fine swordsman,” Aemon remarked beside Rhaenys. She also noticed a hint of sadness in her brothe’s voice. Her brother had always dreamed of being a great swordsman, but that dream was dimmed by the loss of his eye.”You have to give him that.”

“That is why my mother made him her Captain of the Guard,” Princess Myrcella chirped. “I told him to partake in the tourney.”

Princess Shireen gave Princess Myrcella a cold look, but said nothing.

Rhaenys was surprised to see this play out before her eyes. She had never thought they might become enemies.

Queen Lyanna seemed to notice the change of mood as well, her grey eyes searching Gaemon’s face, but as so often these days, he gave her the cold shoulder. 

Aegon was also not ignorant and frowned at his younger brother.

“Lady Brienne did well,” Aegon added to support his wife. “There is no one more deserving of knighthood.”

At that remark, Jace had lifted his head.

“Why not make her a knight, Uncle Aegon?”

“I fear I can’t,” Aegon explained. “A woman cannot receive knighthood.”

“That is stupid,” Jace remarked. “Really stupid.”

“It is stupid!” Naerys agreed. It was a strange occurrence. „Stupid! Stupid!“

Rhaenys was about to open her mouth to add her opinion, but the kick of her babe stopped her.

It felt, as if the child knew about her greatest fear, namely that it child could be sired from her brother and not by her husband.

The feast that followed didn’t help to lift her spirit. She sat all night beside Princess Shireen, who was eying Princess Myrcella and Gaemon with hawke’s eyes, as if they would dare to plot treason in front of her eyes.

Daenerys and Aemon were enjoying themselves as well and more than once her brother asked her to dance with him, but Rhaenys always refused, claiming the babe was making it hard to move.

„When will the future Lord of Highgarden be born?“ Shireen asked and eyed her belly closely. „You look as if you are ready to give birth at any moment.“

Rhaenys chuckled and touched her belly. The babe kicked again. „It looks that way, but according to the Maester the birth is still a handful of moons away. I am sure I will make it back to Highgarden in time.“

Shireen shook her head in disbelief. „But it is such a long travel and I am sure Aegon would be happy to have you a while longer. I wasn’t born at Storm’s End either, but in Oldtown. My mother always said that saved me. She thought my father’s castle is poisonous to children and that it killed my little brother.“

Rhaenys had heard about the boy’s young death. It made her scared for her own babe. Babes were so fragile and prone to sickness.

„Then, you are fortunate,“ Rhaenys replied. „But I am sure you won’t have to suffer the same hardships. I am sure your babe will be born healthy.“

Shireen blushed at that and feigned ignorance. „I didn’t know…Who told you?“

The last words had left her lips in a mere whisper and Rhaenys suddenly realized that the Princess Shireen was not jesting.

„No one,“ Rhaenys replied flabbergasted. „I hadn’t know…I just assumed it…it is natural.“

„Oh,“ Shireen said and eyed Aegon, who was currently sharing a dance with Alysanne. „I thought Aegon might have told you. He always speaks so highly of you and that you share every secret with each other. The truth is, we have known for a while, but we wanted to wait a while longer...“

Rhaenys smiled. „And why is that if I may ask?“

Shireen smiled sadly, her dark blue eyes fixed on Princess Myrcella, who was giggling while Gaemon whispering something into her ear. „Because my mother lost many of her babes early. I do not wish to embarrass Aegon.“

 _Or because you fear someone might hurt your babe_ , Rhaenys guessed and leaned closer to touch Princess Shireen’s arm.

„I assume you want me to keep this a secret?“

A smile returned to Princess Shireen’s lips.

„That would be my wish.“

Not long after, Rhaenys went to retire to her pavillion. The kicking of her babe had finally subsided when she dressed for bed and dismissed her handmaids.

Not that Rhaenys minded their presence. She just preferred to be alone while she was writing her letter to Willas.

Yet, when she heard a familiar voice reach through the thin walls of the pavilion, she knew would write no letter tonight.

It was Aegon.

If he was just her little brother she could have easily dismissed him, but that was no longer possible. He was now the Regent.

Exhaling deeply, she stepped outside and smiled at her brother.

„Come in, Egg,“ she offered and lead the way. „But lower your voice. Half of my guardsmen are already asleep.“

„And drunk,“ Aegon said. „Are you not unhappy about their lack of discipline?“

Rhaenys gave her brother a surprised look. „You weren’t that disciplined either as a young. Remember the time I found you, Aemon, Harry and Robb puking out your guts because you poured down two bottles of grog.“

„Watered grog,“ Aegon defended himself and shifted uncomfortable, as he looked around. „Speaking of intoxicating baverages…Do you have some more wine?“

„You had not enough at the feast?“ Rhaenys asked. By the way Aegon was leaning on the table he would have an unfomfortable waking on the morrow. Yet, perhaps that had been the only way for him to find the courage to speak to her. „You reak of it.“

„I only had a cup or two,“ Aegon replied and rubbed his temples. „But now I feel like I have need of more.“

„I have no wine,“ Rhaenys apologized. „The Maester said it is not good for the babe at such a late state of pregnancy, but I can call for the servants if you wish...“

„No need,“ Aegon said at last and exhaled deeply. He brushed his hand over her face and looked at her with his dark purple eyes. „You know why I came, but the wine would have made it easier.“

Rhaenys bit her lips and felt a sting of guilt in her heart.

„You came to speak about the babe. My babe.“

„My son,“ Aegon said and looked at her belly, as if he could already see a fully-formed babe seated in her lap. „This might be my son.“

Rhaenys was slightly bothered by his fixation on the sex.

„It might be a girl.“

„You know what I mean,“ Aegon grumbled and stepped closer, but stopped himself in the last moment. „Why didn’t you say anything for such a long time?“

„Because I was confused,“ Rhaenys tried to explain her conflicted feelings. „You have to understand. For years they have been watching me…expecting an heir and I was just fed up. And Willas was not trying to help me and I was angry…,“ she was about to continue, but Aegon cut her off, his dark purple eyes wide in shock.

She read pain and anger in them. Yet, she knew he would not hurt her.

„So, you used me to get back at your husband?“

„Perhaps,“ Rhaenys admitted. She needed to be honest. „I don’t know…I am not always perfect. I do not know everything, Egg.“

„Don’t call me that,“ Aegon snapped back at her. „And stop playing with me! You know how I felt about you and yet you did _this_! You know what I think…I think you only wanted a child!“

Rhaenys felt the child’s kick once more, harder than before. It seemed as if it was just as distressed as its possible father.

It made her gasp and Aegon stopped his ranting.

„Rhae,“ he said and was quickly at her side, touching her arm. „Are you well?“

„I am well,“ Rhaenys assured him and recoiled from his touch. The guilt was too close to heart in that moment. „And you are right…I used you. You have every right to be angry with me, but there is still the possibility that this child was fathered by Willas.“

Aegon grimaced, as he rose back to his feet. He gave her an accusing look. „And what if it is not?“

Rhaenys sighed and rose to her feet, cradling his face between her hands.

„This child can never be yours…it would be far too dangerous.“

„I know,“ Aegon said defensively and pushed her hand away. He turned around then walked back to Rhaenys, staring at her with anger. „I know, but that doesn’t have to like it.“

„I know,“ Rhaenys said. „Think about it…the best you could give this child is raise him or her as a bastard. On top of that, it would destroy father’s allegiance with the Tyrells forever.“

„I know all that,“ Aegon replied defensively. „But you are again ignoring what I am really trying to say. This isn’t about logic, but feelings. You always disregarded my feelings and then…this one time you didn’t. I want to know w _hy_.“

Rhaenys knew then what he wanted to hear.

It would be too dangeorus.

„You know why. I just told you so. And now you must leave.“

Aegon looked as if Rhaenys‘ had slapped him over the face.

„Very well. I shall leave.“

…


	21. Arya

**Arya**

The squire melee had been a short affair. A dozen of young boys had spent half an hour bashing at each other with shields and blunted blades. The sound had been mesmerizing, but the performance had been rather poor compared to the real knights. These boys relayed more on strenght than tactics and the winner had been some young knight from the Reach whose name Arya could not remember.

Edric Dayne, the boy she had given her favour, had also partaken in the tourney, but had not been able to win against the big boy from the Reach. Even so, he hadn’t been bad at all. He had defeated two boys older than him.

Arya had clapped for him because that was what his mother expected of her. She had even put on a proper dress. Even her hair was brushed and plaited, but it was nothing compared to Sansa, who wore a beautiful silk dress and a shiny hairnet that made her auburn hair shine like rubies. Arya felt almost like a peasant seated next to her sister, put for some reason this Edric Dayne was constantly waving and grinning at her.

He truly was an odd boy.

„Lord Edric was not bad at all,“ her lady mother praised the boy and patted Arya’s shoulder. „Perhaps you should go to him and thank him for his performance. Sansa could go with you…to keep it decent.“

Arya flushed. She suddenly felt one of these silly maidens that needed chaperones to be watched at every step. Sansa was not one of these maidens, but not Arya. Well, here they were, strolling along the colorful balustrade, towards the tent where the young squires were dressing and washing themselves. Of course, they waited outside the large tent until Edric Danyne emrged, garbed in a sleevles jerking over a white-and-velvet tunic and dark breeches. His silver hair was wet, as if he had dipped his head in a bowl of water, but his cheeks were pink. He still had her hankerchief wrapped around his hand, the one she had made herself. It showed a crooked wolf, but Edric Dayne didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, he was smiling like a fool when he approached her and Sansa.

„I know, I was a sore disappointment, my ladies,“ Edric apologized and kissed first Sansa’s hand before doing the same with Arya‘s. „I think you did well. You are faster than most, but so scrawny.“

Arya could see that it was a mistake, when he was grinning like a fool. She had no need for an admirer, another Cley Cerwyn. „But do not think it means I am going to marry you!“

„Arya!“ Sansa exclaimed. „That is very impolite to say!“

Edric Dayne’s head was now red like a lobster. „I don’t mind…I am not even a knight yet…First I have to train hard to earn my knighthood and then I can marry!“

Arya didn’t quite believe him, but could see no hint of falseness in his face.

Perhaps he was honest.

Arya decided to give him a chance and also because it meant her cousin Aemon would finally give her the sword lessons she desired.

„There is an archery contest,“ Arya offered. „Do you want to watch?“

Edric looked as if someone had dropped a bucket of gold in his lap and lowered his head.

„Of course,“ Edric said and offered his hand to Arya. „I would be honored…my lady!“

„Don’t call me that,“ Arya corrected him quickly and took his arm. „Call me Arya.“

Edric Dayne beamed. „Then, you must call me Ned.“

Sansa smiled approvingly and Arya felt the urge to run away, but he was smiling so sweetly and she found no reason to dislike him.

„I shall walk behind you two…to watch.“

„Do what you want,“ Arya replied and led Edric towards the large field that had been prepared for the archery contest. A handful of participants were left from the previous round and this was the last contest. Arya had no particluar favourite, but the best ones were a man named Anguy and no other than Theon Greyjoy, the heir to the Iron Islands.

He was already pulling forth the first arrow when they arrived. The signal of the horn was followed by the snapping sound and within the blink of a moment the wooden shields at the other end of the field were peppered with arrows.

Arya’s eyes had followed Theon Greyjoy’s arrow all the way, which had hit the target right in the middle field. It was a perfect shot, but the bright grin on Theon Greyjoy’s lips made her dislike the boy for some reason. There was also a beautiful lady watching him from behind the lines. She was dressed in a bright green dress, her brown hair tumbling down to her waist in a long curled braid. She was rather on the plump side, but Sansa had told her that some boys preferred girls with flesh on their body.

Arya had pondered this answer for a long time. She was very scrawny and yet Cley Cerwyn and Edric Dayne found her appealing. Had Jeyne Poole and Sansa lied to her? Could a boy like someone like Arya Horseface?

„This Greyjoy boy looks very convinced about his own abilities,“ Sansa remarked beside Arya. „He is handsome too and heir to the Iron Islands.“

„Our enemy,“ Arya pointed out. „Father fought them once and he is also a hostage of Lord Tyrell.“

Sansa frowned. „I have no interest in marrying him. Father will decide for me.“

Her sister sounded sad, but that was no surprise. She had barely looked at Domeric Bolton when he had offered to dance with her during the feast last night. Normally, her sister would dance all night until her feet were bleeding, but that night she had sat in her chair, watching Robb, their cousins Aemon and Gaemon thwirling their ladies over the dancefloor. Even Arya had shared a dance with Bran and Rickon.

„Father will find you a pretty lord,“ Arya assured her. Sansa could be annoying, but she was still her sister. She wanted her to be happy. „But didn’t you give your favour to Lord Bolton?“

„I did,“ Sansa replied and grimaced. „But only because it would be impolite to refuse. I am glad he didn’t win.“

Arya didn’t understand her dislike for The Bolton heir. Unlike his father he had no scary eyes and whispery voice. He was also an excellent rider and if Arya had any interest in marriage she would have gladly traded Dom for Cley Cerwyn.

„Why? What is wrong with Dom? Aren’t you into southron knights?“

„Dom,“ Sansa chided her. „That is no way to adress a lord.“

„I have know him for such a long time…he even told me to call him that. Perhaps you should as well…perhaps it could help you to see him for what he is. A good man.“

„A Bolton,“ Sansa replied. „You know what they say about his father. He flays people alive…and their castle is called the Dreadfort.“

„Aegon the Conqueror burned people alive,“ Arya jested. „And Umbers are said to eat the hearts of their enemies. Well, Old Nan says that and you are whining about some flayed man? Please spare me you excuses, Sansa.“

„Not everyone is like you,“ Sansa complained and jerked her head at the archers, as they took position again. „But now enough of the talking. Aren’t you here to watch the competition?“

„For sure,“ Arya agreed and shifted her attention back to the archers. Anguy had hit the red point three times in a row, as did Theon Greyjoy. Only the two of them were now left.

Again, the horn roared and the sound of snapping arrows rang in their ears.

Theon Greyjoy‘s arrow missed the middle by an inch, which earned Anguy the victory.

Theon Greyjoy’s smile had faded in an instant when the victory laurel was placed on his enemy‘s head.

Not even the touch of his lady seemed to appease Theon Grejoy. „That is Lady Desmera Redwyne,“ Sansa remarked when the girl had run off after Theon Greyjoy had given her a cold rebuke. „Why would she be here with Theon Greyjoy of all people?“

„Why not,“ Arya said. „He is a boy with a cock.“

„Arya!“ Sansa snapped and gave Edric Dayne a mortified look. „You are embarrassing us!“

Edric Dayne didn’t look bothered. On the contrary, he seemed amused by their exchange.

„All is well, my lady Sansa. I am from Dorne and my Aunt Allyria can be rather brusque. I like these kind of girls.“

Arya felt a hint of warmth in her cheeks.

She was not like Sansa. No, she would never be like her silly sister.

Thus, Arya quickly averted her gaze and pulled her hand away.

It seemed the Greyjoy heir had gotten company.

It was a tall, blond boy, garbed in blue-and-white finery. He was pretty by Sansa’s standards but too far away to say which house he belonged to.

„This must be Harry the Heir,“ Sansa told Arya. „He is as gallant as they say.“

Arya frowned. „Harry what?“

Sansa sighed. „Harry the bloody Heir! He is Robb’s friend and he is heir to our cousin Sweetrobin. They say he married a Royce girl of all people.“

„Father likes Royce….Why would that anger people?“

„Because Royce broke with the King when he disinherited his daughter,“ Sansa explained. „And our cousin Alys is betrothed to our cousin Sweetrobin. There are those who think Harry should be Lord of the Vale instead of our sickly cousin.“

Arya understood that, but she didn’t care about these plots and rumours. That was Sansa’s joy, not hers.

Seeing these archers enjoy themselves, made her long for her own bow, but that would be unseemly.

„Well, it seems Harry is also friends with the Lannisters,“ Ned added. There was indeed Joffrey Lannister, laughing and sharing a cup of wine. Arya didn’t know Joffrey well, but Robb had always described him as a vain boy who believed that the sun was shining out of his arse. Strangely, Arya found they made a pretty picture, these three young lords from the Vale, the Westerlands and the Iron Islands. „I wasn’t aware they were close.“

„Why not?“ Sansa asked curiosly. „Theon Grejoy spent most of his youth in the Reach and Joff has been fostered her because of his betrothal to Lady Margaery. I suppose he was kind enough to introduce them.“

„I don’t really care,“ Arya said at last. She had long stopped listening to her sister and searched Edric’s gaze. „Why not go and watch the bear fight?“

Edric looked hesitant and Sansa paled.

„Only you would like such a bloody display. It is not seemly for ladies. Mother would not like it.“

„Well, mother doesn’t need to know about it. Just tell her we went to see the puppet show. Or are you afraid?“

Sansa’s blue eyes filled with defiance. „I am not afraid at all, but I take no joy in watching a bear dismember dogs. I shall go to the puppet show and cover for you.“

Arya was suprised she was so helpful. „What do you want in return?“

Sansa frowned. „Not everything has a price.“

Arya shook her head. „Everything has a price.“

Sansa chuckled and rose to her feet. „You are far too suspicious for your own good. I only expect that favour returned in the future.“

Arya could live with that. „Deal.“

The bear-baiting was held in a high-fenced area, also called the pit. There were also raised seats for the spectators.

In the middle was a post and the bear was chained to it around the neck. Arya felt both fear and excitement when she heard the bear’s roar.

Edric Dayne didn’t seem to share her enthusiasm.

„Have you ever been to such a bear-bait, my lady?“

Arya shook her head. „I just thought it would be interesting. How does it work?“

Edric jerked his head at the men leading the dogs into the pit. „Simple, they free the bulldogs and the bear is trying to fight them off…either he kills the bulldogs or the bulldogs kill him.“

Suddenly, all of this didn’t sound as exciting anymore. It made her think of Nym getting chained and torn apart by wolves. The thought angered her more than anything, but she didn’t want to appear weak in front of Edric Dayne.

„I see.“

The barking of the dogs and the roar of the bear were only surpassed by the cheers of the crowd.

Arya had to shield her ears against the clamor, her gaze fixed on the bear.

The bear was big and its fangs and tusks looked sharp like a razor. The first dog, all black and brown, was the first one to bury its sharp fangs into the bear’s leg. Another hurled himself at the bear’s back and a third one buried its teeth deep into its back.

The boar roared and fought. One dog gave a wailing sound, as he was hurled through the arena, clashing with the wooden fence. Blood splattered the ground and the boar was soon upon another dog. His sharp teeth enclosed the dog’s head tightly and made the animal wail. What followed, was a crushing sound and more blood and brain matter was splattered over the muddy ground.

The crowd went mad and Arya felt suddenly very sick.

She nearly dropped from her seat, but Edric caught her in time.

As the battle continued, Edric helped her down the steps, but they didn’t make it far.

Right there, Arya vomited out her fast.

It was so fucking embarrassing.

She was grouching there like some silly little girl while Edric Dayne was brushing his hand over her back.

„Are you well, my lady?“

„Arya,“ she corrected him again. „I am not your lady and I am well.“

„You don’t look like it, Arya, “ Edric remarked. „Your face is pale like ash.“

Arya couldn’t help but to snap at him. She had no use for his pity.

„I am well and I want to go. Let us seek out Sansa…she ist at the puppet show.“

„Of course,“ Ned replied. He sounded very distrought. He offered his arm, but Arya ignored him. „I can walk on my own.“

Yet, when Arya pulled herself back to her feet, she felt another sickly feeling washing over her.

„See,“ Edric remarked and slipped his arm beneath hers. „You are too stubborn for your own good.“

„I am who I am,“ Arya cursed and followed along.

It didn’t take long before they reached the place where the puppet show was held.

There, she quickly freed herself from Edric’s grip. She was feeling much better.

„You can leave me now…,“ she told him, but Edric called after her.

„Well, there is something…“ he stuttered. „Something I hoped to do give you…I have a gift for you.“

Arya frowned at him. She had no use for girly gifts.

„You do not have to give me a gift.“

„But I want to,“ Edric declared with more confidence and unfastened his belt where he kept a short blade, meant for squires. It was a fine blade, the pommel made from a shining material in the form of a wolf. He offered the blade hilt-first. „Here…it is yours.“

Arya stared at him in disbelief.

„Why would you give me your sword?“

Edric smiled in amusement. „Are you not interested?“

„Of course!“ Arya replied and picked the blade from his hands. „But I do not understand why you would give me one?“

„I have plenty of swords,“ Edric replied. „But someone told me you have none.“

With these words he had left her speechless.

…


	22. Ned

**Ned**

“I rather kill these Wildlings than talk to them!” the Greatjon grumbled for the hundred time since they had arrived at Castle Black.

He had also slammed his hand on the table, making the wooden cups rattle.

Ned had caught his cup in time and looked around. This long and dark room was called the Shieldhall, its walls covered with old shields used throughout the long history of the Night’s Watch.

Seated around the table were his loyal bannermen and their sons. Torrhen Karstark, Old Rickard Stark’s son sat with Galbart Glover and Lady Alysanne Mormont, watching the Greatjon with amusement. Lord Medger Cerwyn, Halys Hornwood and Robin Flint were nodding their heads in agreement.

It was William Dustin who proved the word of reason. “I have known Ned my entire life, my Lord Umber. He would not lead us to our doom.”

“No,” the Greatjon grumbled and shook his head. “But I do not trust these Wildlings. It could be a trap.”

“There is always that chance,” William argued. “But that is why we brought good men. And the Night’s Watch will also add their lot, won’t they?”

He had turned to look at Lord Commander Mormont when he had said this. The Old Bear nodded his head in agreement and brushed his hand through his grey beard.

The raven on his shoulder made a squeaking sound whenever he moved. The King, who had so far listened to their exchange in silent contemplation, was rubbing his chin, as he looked over to the Lord Commander. The old Maester Aemon was also there, but Ned saw little of his Targaryen ancestry in him. He was blind and lacked hair, but no one could deny that he had a calming influence on the men who had gathered here to find a solution for the Wildling problem.

“I shall add as many men as I can, my lords,” the Old Bear replied and looked to the King. “You shall have my best rangers as well. Still, I must agree with Lord Umber. This is a most dangerous endeavour, your grace. I understand that your son spoke to Mance Ryder, but the man is an oathbreaker…word counts not more than the shit in his breeches.”

Rhaegar Targaryen nodded his head in acknowledgement. “I never said I trust this Mance Ryder, but I wish to hear what he has to say.“

It was Old Flint who cleared his throat. “Your grace, if I may speak?

Rhaegar Targaryen nodded his head in approval. “You may speak, my lord.”

“And what if this meeting turns out as you hope? Do you truly intend to allow the Wildlings cross the Wall? And more importantly, where will they go?”

“Exactly, “ the Greatjon added. “We have already enough mouths to feed.”

“I also doubt your people in the south will appreciate the Wildlings,” Medgar Cerwyn added.

If Rhaegar Targaryen was displeased it didn’t show on his face.

“I hear you, my lords, but I and lord Stark have put some thought into this matter. All these wildlings would certainly not fit into the North, but separating them and settling them on unused land is ertainly possible. There is the Gift in the North, but there are also lands in the South that are unused and need settlement. The Night’s Watch is also in dire need of recruits. Who better than these Wildlings, who are used to the cold?”

“These Wildlings are not welcome among us, your grace,” added on of the black brothers. “Only a dead wildling is a good wildling.”

His answer earned him a round of grumbling approval from the other black brothers.

This time, Ned noticed a hint of displeasure in the King’s face, but he remained calm and even smiled at the Lord Commander and black brothers.

“All your opinions are valid, but you yourself must see that the Night’s Watch cannot hold the Wall without help. Tell me, how many men can you muster from the three castles you are currently holding?”

“Three hundred at the Shadow Tower and two hundred here at Castle Black and about another two hundred at Eastwatch. The others must stay,” The Lord Commander added and crossed his arms in front of him. “And we certainly need recruits, but I do not know how willing these Wildings be to obey our laws.”

“Your laws are a problem,” The King replied. “But perhaps we could make some exceptions. It is still open for discussions. First, we must speak with the Wildlings.”

“Indeed,” Torrhen Karstark said and patted his hand on the map that was spread over half the table. “And how will we get to these Wildlings?”

“There are different pathways we could take, “ the First Ranger explained. “But I know from my rangers that the Wildings are assembling their host near the Milkwater. Something is brewing.”

“They are preparing an attack…that is what is happening!” one of the blackbrothers argued. He had a round and very red face. “And if we don’t stop them they will pillage and destroy the entire North!“

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Ned spoke up. “ What path do you suggest?”

“I think we should ride for the Fist of the First Men and make camp there. It would give us proper protection against our unknown enemy. Still, I also suggest trying to contact the Wildings once we arrive at Craster’s Keep.”

“Craster?” Ser Jaime asked. He was the leader of Rhaegar’s guard and constantly shivering, despite being seated close to a brazier. “Who is that?”

“A vile pig who fucks his own daughters,” the First Ranger explained. “At least, that is what they say.”

He paled when he noticed the King’s stare. He quickly lowered his head, as if the apologize.

“I didn’t mean to imply anything, your grace.”

King Rhaegar chuckled.

“Not even we Targaryens fuck our daughters.”

It was the first time, the men around the table laughed about something the King had said.

“Well, said,” the First Ranger agreed and pointed at the map. “Well, this Craster is known to trade with the Wildlings and will surely be willing to reach out to Mance.“

“Sounds like a decent plan,” The King replied. “But we might have to adapt it along the way. When will we leave?”

“As soon as it can be arranged,” The Lord Commander added. “The weather is promising, but that can change quickly.”

“I understand,” the King replied and lifted his cup to his lips. He took a sip and grimaced at the sour taste, but looked oddly happy. As happy as someone like Rhaegar Targaryen could. “Who will lead us?“

“I have the right man for you,” Lord Commander Mormont said. “A man who is hated by the Wildlings, but who knows the lands beyond the Wall betters than anyone in the Night’s Watch. Qhorin Halfhand.”

“Isn’t he the commander of the Shadowtower?” asked Ned.

Mormont shrugged with his shoulders and the bird on his shoulder flapped his black wings. “He volunteered. No, he insisted upon it.”

The King smiled. „Then I shall trust this capable man of yours.“

“And what if it comes to a war, your grace?“ asked Roose Bolton, who had not spoken a single word since they had come together to discuss their strategy. “ How would we fight?”

“We have thought about it,” Ned replied and met the man’s strange eyes across the table. “And we decided it is best to separate our troops into two parts. The King’s Men, the Umber, the Mormont, the Manderly, the Hornwood, the Flint men and the brothers from Castle Black will march towards the Fist of the First Men where we can meet with the men from the Shadow Tower. The rest of you shall remain here, which includes you, my Lord Bolton, the Karstark men, the Dustin men, the Cerwyn men and the rest of our troops.“

“And what are we to do?” Torrhen Karstark asked impatiently. “Sit and wait like old women?“

“Aye,” Ned confirmed. “Lord Roose and William will command these troops.”

The young man seemed very displeased. “I should command my father’s men!“

“Perhaps,” Ned replied. “But you are still young. I am sure your lord father would agree with me if he was here.“.”

The young lord sat back down. He received some encouraging words from Robin Flint, but Ned could not hear them. Seeing them like this, reminded him of Robb and the rest of his childre. It also made him think of Benjen who was ruling Winterfell in his stead.

“So we have our plan and our time of departure,” The King said. “We should eat and rest properly before we ride into the cold unknown.”

“I agree,” Ned added approvingly. “ We ought to rest.“

“And drink!” the Greatjon roared. “There is nothing better than to get drunk on ale before riding off into a bloody snowstorm!”

Even the King’s men gave their approval and soon enough they were drinking and spooning down bitter broth.

Ned ate little that night and the King even less. Not long after, he left to speak with his grand-uncle in private.

Ser Jaime had intended to follow only to be rebuffed by the King.

Thus, the young man had remained and was now seated at the table across Ned. He looked out of place among these Northmen, golden-haired and white-cloaked like a maid on her nameday.

Ned held no love for the Lannisters, but he couldn’t say that he disliked Ser Jaime. He was quiet and did what was demanded of him.

Even so, he had the feeling that Ser Jaime didn’t hold much love for Ned or for the North.

He was constantly rubbing his hands over the fire or sipping on his mulled wine. Sometimes, he was also whispering to his men.

And when he noticed Ned’s staring he smiled his perfect Lannister smile.

“I wonder what is so interesting about my face, Lord Stark?”

Ned frowned. For a knight of the Kingsguard he certainly had no manners. He was vain and arrogant like his father.

“Nothing, but I am surprised the King sent you away. Isn’t it your duty to protect him?”

Ser Jaime nodded his head. “It is, but the King wishes to be alone with the Old Maester. Perhaps what they are talking about is secret…I cannot say, Lord Stark. You will have to ask him yourself if you wish to know more about it.”

Ned Stark knew then that he had pried enough. He emptied his cup and took his leave from his men before seeking out his furs.

That night he dreamed of grey wolves and dragons black and red, of stags and falcons, of lions and trouts, the sun and roses, all in a bloody quarrel with each other while an icy storm came blowing from the North.

Winter had come.

...


	23. Lyanna

**Lyanna**

It was Lyanna's first tourney since Harrenhall. After her father’s and brother’s deaths by the hands of King Aerys, she had never felt the need to attend another tourney nor had she longed to put on the armor of a knight. She still loved chasing her horse through the Kingswood, but jousting was not something she had thought of in years. Her childhood had been a lifetime ago, but seeing the knights in their shining armor she felt a hint of excitement rising up inside her.

That her daughter Alysanne was content with her betrothed eased her heart. True, the boy was sickly and would never make a great knight, but he seemed pleasant enough and had shown great interest in her daughter’s favorite bird. This morn, Alys had introduced Storm while Roger had watched over them, and afterward, they had broken their fast in Lyanna’s presence.

Lyanna had then left to change into finer clothing, a grey dress made of silk and a black cloak embellished with the three-headed dragon, held together by a ruby brooch Rhaegar had gifted her upon their second wedding. She also wore her hair in the southron style and the crown resting atop her head was the one Rhaegar had commissioned for her crowning scarce three years ago. To put it on again filled her with a strange foreboding, for her previous period as queen had been short, but now that her family was together again she felt hope that everything would be well.

No, things would only be well again once Rhaegar returned from his travel beyond the Wall and Gaemon forgot his grudge against her.

Thinking of your youngest, filled her with fresh pain, but she also knew well how it was to be young and stubborn. Her son was prideful and that had been instilled into him from an early age, but she was sure he would see reason soon enough.

_I must speak to him, but for now, I will let him enjoy the tourney._

The tourney was certainly not such a grand event as Harrenhall. The first day had been dominated by the melee competition and it had been Lyle Crakenhall who had won, though Lyanna was sure it would have been much different if the Kingsguard had participated as well. The second day of the tourney had been marked by the squire melee and a large archery contest. There had also been a horse race and a puppet show, but Lyanna hadn’t attended all these competitions. She had allowed Aegon and his bride to take the reigns, another advice from Queen Rhaella, who had decided to remain on Dragonstone due to her bad health.

No, that Lyanna regretted giving Aegon and Shireen the spotlight. Aegon was a handsome prince, but she had also seen how hard the burden was that Rhaegar had left him with. The crown would be even heavier to bear, but Lyanna hoped that was many years into the future.

“You did well,” Lyanna complimented Aegon after he and Princess Shireen had taken their seats. “I think we earned more than we spent.”

Aegon nodded his head in acknowledgment but didn’t smile. Unlike his guests, he was constantly moody, though Lyanna doubted it had to do with the tourney. Something was brewing and she had the feeling that Gaemon was at fault again.

Her youngest son was seated with his bride. Myrcella wore a stunning gown of crimson and her long golden hair made her look like a younger Cersei Lannister. Lyanna didn’t know what to make of the girl. She was sweet and funny, but that didn’t mean anything. Cersei could be like that as well, but that didn’t keep her from prying upon Rhaegar. husband. 

Yet, this girl was her son’s bride and the way they were constantly sneaking around she was sure she would soon be graced with another grandson or perhaps a granddaughter. Lynna sighed, for thinking of grandchildren made her feel old.

“I heard you allowed Loras to take part in the joust, brother,” remarked her oldest son Aemon. “Arthur said so.”

“Loras begged for it,” Arthur jested. “And Aegon agreed after your lady mother convinced him.”

“It is true,” Lyanna confirmed. “I hope it is no insult to the Kingsguard.

“Not at all,” Arthur said and laughed, as he shifted his attention to Ser Barristan. “We are getting old, though Ser Gerold is still training us as if we are young spring birds. It is good to leave the spectacle to younglings.”

Lyanna laughed and the sound of the horn announced the first tilt of the finals.

She had watched nearly all of the previous jousts in company of her children. They had staked bets and enjoyed themselves greatly until and only four candidates had remained.

There was for one Loras Tyrell, who had unhorsed Harrold Hardyng in the third round. It had been a worthy competition, but Harrold Hardyng had not taken it well. He had been cursing loudly as he had been led away from the courtyard.

Another finalist was Ser Domeric Bolton, who had also partaken in the melee. He had proven capable enough to defeat Ser Ronald Waynwood, a famed jouster or so Lady Margaery had told her. At last, there was Beric Dondaarion and her nephew Robb, who had also proven himself to be a capable rider, though Lyanna doubted he would succeed against the other competitors.

The first tilt was between Ser Domeric and her nephew. One was clad in the grey-and-black of Winterfell while Ser Domeric wore the bright pink cloak of the Boltons.

Some of the southron lords snickered, but Ser Domeric sat straight like a lance as his wooden lance clashed with Robb’s. They were both good riders, but Lyanna could not help but notice that Robb knew how to handle the lance with more efficiency.

In the second round, the lances clashed again, leaving behind a cloud of dust and no victor.

“Dom and Robb are even!” Arya exclaimed excitedly. She stood at the balustrade, Naerys, and Jacaerys beside her, their heads raised. “I think this will go on and on.”

The sound of the horn announced the next round while her son Aemon pulled back his son and Viserys' little girl. Arya also returned to her place after Lady Catelyn had flashed her a chiding look.

Arya’s words proved true enough, for again the lances broke again, but no winner emerged. The horses were sweating and the crowd went mad, as the competitors went to take a cool drink, a cup of wine or milk before they returned back to their respective positions.

Again, the horn was sounded and the horses chased towards each other in a rush of madness.

This, time Robb’s lance hit home, striking Domeric Bolton’s shoulder, bringing him off balance and making him fall sideways from the horse. He was still stuck in the stirrup, as it galloped towards the other end of the courtyard.

Robb received loud cheers and looked around in confusion.

He even climbed from his horse and went to see whether Domeric was well. Together they left the courtyard to make room for the next competitors.

Lord Beric was the oldest among the other three companions, but he was a handsome man and full of life. His cloak of dark velvet and embellished with a lightning bolt made the ladies squirm just as much as if Ser Loras was riding past them with his flowery cloak.

Even so, Lady Allyria’s gaze betrayed not a hint of happiness to see her betrothed riding in the finals.

_Another political match, but then Lord Beric is nothing like Robert..._

It was the sound of the horn and the trumpets that washed away her thoughts.

Quickly the lances came together, but both riders remained seated.

The second round proved even more exciting. Both riders managed to hit their enemy, but both remained seated again. When Ser Loras had faltered for a brief moment, Lyanna had heard the girls' gasps, but when he had remained seated, the cheers had been louder than before.

Again, the champions received fresh lances and prepared themselves for the third round. There was silence now in the lower ranks, a tension so thick one could cut the air with a knife.

Lyanna watched, as riders straightened themselves and rushed towards each other with the speed of lightning, leaving behind them a cloud of red dust.

When the dust had finally cleared the winner was decided and to everyone’s surprise it was not the Knight of Flowers. No, it was Lord Lighteningbolt, who had won this match, for Ser Loras was being dragged through the dirt.

Lyanna heard the gasps of the ladies and some of them looked as if they were ready to jump over the wooden railing to kiss Ser Loras‘ wounds.

Yet, but soon enough a good dozen squires came to attend to him, pulling him back to his feet and offering him a cup of wine.

„It seems the last match will be between Robb and Lord Beric,“ Daenerys whispered to Aemon. She sounded excited.

Aemon smiled. It was a smile Lyanna knew well. It meant he was plotting something.

Silenced returned to the crowd when the finals opponents took position on either side of the tiltyard. Both looked splendid in their armor, especially her young nephew.

Arya and Sansa were cheering, but Bran was the loudest of them all, though he was standing at the lower ranks with the other squires. Even, Lady Stark was clapping for Robb, though her pale face also betrayed a hint of fear.

Lady Allyria seemed to share Lady Stark's feelings. She looked almost fearful as she looked at Robb.

Again, the lances came together in a clash of wood and steel, leaving nothing but a cloud of red dust. When the air had cleared both riders remained seated, not even a dent visible in their armor.

The cheers of the crowd accompanied them all the way back to the other end of the tiltyard where they received fresh lances.

„Robb Stark is good,“ she heard Lady Margaery whisper in disbelief. „I never thought it would be that good.“

Lyanna was about to open her mouth, but the roaring sound of the horn drowned out both words and thoughts.

This time, Lord Beric’s lance struck right where it belonged, but Robb Stark pulled himself up in time before he could slip from his saddle.

Yet, when all was said and done, he was barely able to sit upright in his saddle. It was only with the help of Bran and Domeric Bolton, that her nephew was able to pull off his helmet.

Lyanna could see how flushed his face was, but he refused the cup of water offered by Bran and insisted on facing his enemy once more.

Silence reigned as the competitors prepared themselves for the next round. Robb Stark was swaying like a drunk man and he urged his horse into a clumsy gallop. Lord Beric sat straight like a lance and his horse had the perfect speed, but then it happened…

Just before the lances met, Lord Beric’s horse reared upwards and stumbled along the tiltyard like a man too deep in his cups. Lord Beric’s lance missed and Robb’s lance struck right where it belonged.

Thus, Lord Beric kissed the ground and her nephew won the tourney.

He seemed almost confused when he was handed the victory laurel, a wreath of white roses meant for the Queen of Love and Beauty. 

Her nephew stared at it for a long time before his gaze darted to Lord Beric and then to Lady Allyria Dayne, who was neither smiling not frowning as before.

No, her face was as pale as ash as Robb Stark urged his horse towards the lady's seat...

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who think Jon was just playing catch me if you can with Leaf in Bloodraven's cave: he just helped Robb to victory.


	24. Robb

**Robb**

Robb’s head was still squirming. It felt as if he had bumped his head, but the failure of his endeavor hurt much more than his aching rips. They were broken, so much the master had told him, but it could have been much worse. It was at least not his sword arm.

He was glad that he was no second Willas Tyrell.

However, his mother looked as if he had lost all his limbs and was constantly fluttering around him like a bee around a honey pot. It wasn’t like he was appreciating her help, but it made him feel like a little boy instead of a man grown.

„You should eat,“ his mother said and touched his shoulder. „You will need strength.“

Robb shrugged his shoulders and took a glance at the plate of food placed on the wooden table beside his mother. It was fresh salmon accompanied by turnip mush and fresh mint. The smell was delicious, but Robb had lost all appetite.

Allyria Dayne must be laughing at me now. The fool who tried to compete with her future husband!

„I shall eat when I feel like it,“ Robb replied and sat up, His chest and shoulder were heavily bandaged, but his leg had also been affected. It ached whenever he tried to stand and the last time, his mother had to help him to the privy. „I wish to dress…mother.“

His mother shook her head.

„You will need help…,“ she began, but Robb silenced her with a pat on the shoulder.

„Sent Tom here,“ Robb insisted. „He can help me dress.“

Tom was one of the page boys serving his uncle. He was ten and three and would not pester him with annoying questions.

His mother frowned at that. „Very well.“

Robb sighed in relief when the door finally closed behind him.

Gritting his teeth, he pulled himself to his feet and walked to the window. Down in the inner courtyard, he could see Greywind, Ghost, Nymeria, and Shaggy running circles around each other, probably mortifying the guards.

Bran and Rickon were among them, playing some ball game with the direwolves.

Robb envied them for their lack of sorrow. They knew nothing of betrothals and duty.

It was the sound of the door that made him turn around. It was Tom, the page boy, who had come to help him dress.

Robb smiled at the boy and waved his hand at the clothing his lady mother had left for him. „I only need a helping hand, my boy.“

The boy lowered his head in reverence. „It would be my pleasure to help you, my lord.“

It took longer than expected before Robb found himself fully dressed in breeches and tunic. Especially, the buttons had posed a problem, but when even that was done he could finally dismiss the boy.

Yet, instead of eating, he poured himself a cup of wine and consumed it quickly.

His head was still pounding with a steady rhythm. At times, he didn’t even hear properly, but the maester had told him that it would dissipate in a good time.

When he heard creaking of the door, a very unpleasant sound to his pounding head, he exhaled deeply and was about to complain to the person entering his chamber, but when he saw who it was, he nearly dropped his cup.

Luckily, the cup was empty and his uncle’s rich carpet remained untouched by the wine.

„I apologize for startling you,“ Lady Allyria Dayne said. „My lord.“

She even dropped a quick curtsy and seemed strangely polite.

Robb felt as if someone had dropped a bucket of gold upon his head.

„You are very welcome,“ Robb began, but Lady Allyria silenced him with a shaking head.

„I am not so sure,“ Allyria replied and bit her lips. „Your mother has been glaring at me when I attempted to speak with her. She told me to leave you be, but she went to rest and I think she won’t bother us for a while.“

Robb was glad to hear that, though he loved his lady mother very much.

„I apologize as well if I caused you any pain,“ Robb replied and tried to move, but his aching leg made him wince when he made a step forward. „To be honest…I never thought I would win…Lord Beric is a much better jouster than me. It was pure luck.“

Strangely, Allyria Dayne was not upset. She was even smiling, as she bridged the distance and took his arm, steadying him.

„You have no reason to apologize,“ she replied almost cheerfully. It was such a strange sight to behold. „By crowning me…you did me a great favor! I am finally free of my betrothal…a betrothal I never wanted!“

Robb felt as if a heavy burden had fallen from his shoulders. Her sweet smell only added to his sudden excitement.

„You are not angry?“

Her smile was as bright as a star.

„Not at all…What you did was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me! I certainly enjoyed all their startled faces!“

„And the silence,“ Robb replied, not sharing her excitement in this matter. His mother’s sharp words had not failed to enter his mind, but it was easy to forget them when Allyria was so close. „The silence….,“ he was about to continue, but her lips were suddenly on his, and thoughts of duty melted away like the morning mist.

„Silence is not always a bad thing,“ she whispered and pried his lips apart. Even her tongue tasted sweet like honey or was it the wine? Robb couldn’t be sure. „I always liked the silence.“

„You should close the door,“ Robb told her between kisses, though he didn’t want to let her go. „What if someone sees us?“

Allyria chuckled and let go of his lips. Then, she led him back to the bed before rushing back to the door.

She locked it in a hurry and turned back around, a grin curling on her lips, and her brown hair disheveled from his touch. Yet, the most beautiful thing about her were her deep violet eyes.

The thought made his manhood stir. „ Have you lost your wits?“

„No,“ she replied and started to pull on the buttons of her dress. There were only three of them, but it felt like an eternity before she was able to pull it over her head. It was a simple dress, cut in the Dornish fashion, but when he saw that she wore nothing beneath, he was glad that she had closed the door. „The one with the madness is you…Crowning me of all people!“

Robb laughed like a fool when she climbed into his lap and kissed him once more, her fingers unlacing his breeches. She knew what she was doing, so much was clear, but Robb was too intoxicated by her touch to notice.

„Its called queen of love and beauty!“ Robb insisted touched her full breasts. „And you are the prettiest of all!“

Allyira’s answer came in the form of a kiss. Robb showed no hesitation, as he allowed her to lead the way. Her lips against his, her touch, and the heat of her body made it hard to think clearly.

Robb heard the soft sighs of their kisses, as he brushed off his breeches. She helped him along the way and kissed him once more, quickly crawling back into his lap.

„You are so pretty to look upon, my lord,“ Allyria chuckled. Her lips were sweet and her touch even sweeter. „Kissed by fire!“

Robb chuckled. If it was someone else he might have been insulted, but not by Allyria. Not when she was this willing, coming into his arms after so long.

„I don’t care what my father says,“ Robb replied and kissed her again, as she settled above him. She made no sound and she was no maid, so much was plain, but he didn’t care. „I shall marry who I want…you are not worse a match than Manderly’s girls!“

Allyria kissed him once more, panting and laughing.

When they were done, Robb watched her dress. He admired her curvy body and full breasts, but he also felt a sting of guilt.

„I know why you refused me at first,“ Robb told her and pulled himself up, despite the pain in his chest and legs. He kissed her neck gently and she sighed softly. „Is it because of what my uncle Brandon did to your mother? We are cousin’s are we not?“

She backed away and stared at him with wide violet eyes.

„Did you have to mention him and ruin everything?“ she asked and was about to rise back to her feet, but Robb grabbed her arm to stop her. „I do not want to think of him!“

„I am not like him,“ Robb told her and kept her in place with his one good arm. „I mean it when I said I will marry you…today if you wish!“

Allyria stared back at him in disbelief.

„You would marry me? Have you lost your mind?“

„The Island of Faces has weirwood trees,“ Robb replied. „We could go there…,“ he trailed off.

„I have moon tea,“ she argued.

„Fuck the moon tea!“ Robb insisted fiercely. „And fuck the weirwood…all we need is a Septon and a witness!“

Allyria frowned at that and leaned down to pick up her dress.

She smiled a little. „Dany would not refuse me.“

„And my cousin Aemon wouldn’t either,“ Robb added softly and leaned in, her warm breath brushing over his. „He owes me.“

„What about your mother?“

Robb kissed her softly, his fingers brushing through her hair.

„She will have to accept it. There is no rebellion…there is no need for allegiances. Sansa or Arya or Rickon can marry into a northern family. Perhaps I can promise my eldest son to a northman…that should ease their pains.“

…


	25. Alysanne

**Alysanne**

Alysanne admired the world around her through the eyes of her wolf. It was wonderful to have a pair of eyes and being able to see the rich greenery that presented itself to her.

The sky was even more beautiful to behold: a bright blue cloth littered with fluffy white clouds.

She felt the warmth on her skin and a cool breeze blowing from the east. One step after another, she walked at Roger’s arm, the boy that had taken care of her bird Storm since she was a young girl.

Over the years, he had become her oldest friend and she was happy to have him back after such a long time.

"You are so sure-footed today,“ Roger said and pulled on her arm as they made their way to the stables. „It seems the North has changed you, Alys.“

 _Alys_. She knew people would be displeased if they heard how familiar Roger was with her, but it wasn’t like Alysanne was interested in him in such a manner. He was her friend and she was determined to do her duty with the Lord Falcon of the Vale. He was a bit whiny but not as bad as she had first thought. And most importantly, they shared an interest in animals.

It was more than other couples shared.

„The last years have changed you too,“ Alys replied and smiled when she saw her horse. _Butterfly_ , was a palfrey horse, all grey and kind. It was only through her wolf’s eyes that she could behold its beauty, but Roger didn’t know that. She feared he would be frightened. Even the people in the North did not believe in wargs. „You are now a man grown…and a knight?“

„Indeed,“ Roger agreed and lead her over to the horse. „I owe that all to Ser Bonifer Hasty.“

„He is a kind man,“ Alys agreed and watched while Roger brought the saddle for her horse. When he was done, he shifted his attention back to her and helped her climb into the saddle. „I am sure you will do him great honor!“

„I hope so,“ Roger replied and went to take hold of her horse. „Now let us meet up with your brother…He was always a rather impatient child.“

„Gaemon would indeed be cross with us if we came late,“ Alys replied cheerfully and allowed Roger to lead her horse out of the stables. Then he climbed into the saddle and took the reigns. Together, they rode off towards the Kingswood. „I hope that way I can at least appear a proper Princess even if I can’t see anything!“

„You were always a proper Princess,“ Roger assured her. „Your blindness doesn’t change that.“

Alys smiled but kept her thoughts to herself. Roger might think that way, but most other Kings would have sent her off to serve with the Silent Sisters. Truth be told, Alys had never thought she would get married, but to stay forever at Dragonstone.

The tress grew only taller as they rode deeper into the Kingswood, a cool breeze making the leaves rustle. There were so many different trees and so many different colors, a seldom experience for someone like Alysanne, who was usually surrounded by darkness.

Eventually, they reached a clearing. There was a grove of six large trees with thick white trunks dotted with black stripes and large red leaves. They looked a little bit like the famous weirwood trees, but they were not the same.

Alysanne knew that, but she felt a familiar tingling sensation when she looked at the crow that was nestled in the branches of the tree.

It watched her with its small black eyes, making a croaking sound as Roger passed beneath the tree.

Next, it was the sound of clopping horse hooves that made her turn her head.

A smile had spread over her lips when she had heard it, for she had believed it was her brother Gaemon who had invited her for a hunt in the Kingswood, a common pastime they had often shared as children.

He had also told her that he would bring his wife Princess Myrcella, her brother Lord Joffrey Lannister and his wife Lady Margaery Tyrell.

And it wasn’t like she disliked Princess Myrcella or for that matter Lady Margaery Tyrell, but she had never held much love for Joffrey Lannister. More than once, she had observed him through the eyes of birds and other animals and had heard what he really thought of her.

 _A cripple,_ he had called. _An ugly cripple._

Alysanne had tried not to be hurt by his words, but the fact that Gaemon liked him so much made it all the harder to accept.

And now that she was looking at him she couldn’t help but be disgusted by his very presence here.

„Look what we have here?“ she heard Joffrey ask. „A blind little dragonwolf and her peasant friend!“

„His name is Ser Roger,“ Alysanne corrected Joffrey without hesitation. Her wolf was quickly at her side, baring her teeth at the young man seated on a beautiful black stallion. As usual, he wore the crimson-and-golden finery of House Lannister, his golden hair disheveled by the wind. The way he was carrying his crossbow in his hand made him appear smug and self-important, but that wasn’t what confused her. What really confused her was that her brother, Lady Myrcella nor Lady Margaery Tyrell could be seen. „Who do you think you are?“

Instead, Joffrey Lannister had brought two other familiar faces and a relatively large guard for a common hunt in the Kingswood.

The oldest boy she had only seen briefly at the tourney. He had a finely-shaped face and black hair that fell in soft waves to his shoulders. Yet, it was the golden Kraken embellished on the vest of his cloak that told her who he really was.

Theon Greyjoy, the heir to the Iron Islands.

The other young men he knew as Aegon’s friend, Lord Harry Hardyng. Unlike Joffrey, he was not smiling, his face a mask of cold indifference.

Joffrey cackled, as his hunting companions used their horses to encircle them. This angered her wolf even more, but Alysanne was able to hold her back.

„Your beast has grown big,“ Joffrey continued to laugh and put a bolt into his crossbow, aiming it at Roger. His companions also had brought their weapons. Theon Greyjoy had a bow and Harry Hardyng’s hand was resting on the pommel of his sword. „I wonder how many cross bolts I would need to kill your beast?“

„Stop these games, Joff,“ Harry replied grimly and freed his blade. „Let us do what needs to be done.“

„I brought the men,“ Joffrey snorted at his companions. „And I say we have some fun before we leave this place!“

Alys felt a chill creeping down her spine and a heartbeat later the first bolt had been unleashed upon her horse.

The animal screamed in pain and reared, throwing Alysanne and Roger backward. She spun and hit the ground in an unpleasant manner and gasped in pain. At the same time, she was watching through her wolf’s eyes how she hurled herself at one of the guardsmen, who had unleashed a round of bolts upon her poor wolf.

One had struck her back and another had missed her head by a hair’s breadth. It was a fatal mistake for the guardsman. Driven by rage and pain, her wolf had buried the teeth into the guardsman's horse.

The screams of the horse and the snapping of more cross bolts rang in her hears. She also heard Roger’s cries while she felt her wolf’s pain surging through her body as if it was her own.

Gritting her teeth, she tried to pull herself up and the same time to keep control of her wolf.

Then, she felt another sharp pain in her shoulder.

She screamed in pain and felt tasted blood in her mouth, tears running down her cheeks as she stumbled to the ground.

She had lost control of her wolf.

Yet, that was only the beginning of the nightmare.

Not long after, she felt that someone was pulling her up, his hot breath brushing against her cheek.

She knew that smell. It was the smell of mint, a smell she naturally associated with Joffrey Lannister, who was using this kind of expensive perfume.

„You are not that ugly after all,“ he said and pushed her back on the ground, his weight pressing down on her. „Perhaps it would be fun to have a nice round with you before we put an end to your miserable life, the crippled little wolf that you are.“

Alysanne felt bile rise up her throat. Her body was trembling and sheer fear clutched at her chest.

She also felt disgusted when she felt him pull up her dress, fumbling with her smallclothes.

„Let’s put an end to this nonsense!“ she heard Harry’s complaining.

It was no comfort to Alysanne.

As Joffrey was pushing her down into the dirt she started to kick and shout at him, but it was no use.

He was much stronger.

„Your resistance makes this all the more enjoyable!“ she heard his sickening laughter.

It was the last straw.

Alysanne allowed her mind to slip away and made a last attempt to fight back.

She had never tried to do it with a human, but it was the only available weapon left to her.

At first, it felt as if she was thrown against a wall. Her head started throbbing, but after she made a desperate second and third attempt, she felt how the resistance crumbled.

She felt utter disgust when she slipped into Joffrey Lannister’s mind.

It was a mind overflowing with hatred and lust.

An evil mid.

Even so, Alysanne didn’t relinquish her grip upon his mind.

„Get out of my mind!“ she heard him scream. „Get out of my blood mind!“

She pulled the noose only tighter, wanting to hurt him how he had hurt her poor wolf and her friend Roger.

It was the first time she felt the urge to kill someone.

Thus, she pushed harder.

The loud scream that followed made her ears bleed.

Then, there was only darkness.

…


	26. Daenerys

**Daenerys**

Dany could sense his discomfort in Aegon’s bearing. The crowd of people of courtiers moving through the open doors on either side of the hall all came to find out more about the latest scandal.

Her niece Princess Alysanne had supposedly been taken by while had ridden out to the godwood in company of Ser Roger. She had supposedly wanted to meet Gaemon, yet when questioned about the matter her youngest nephew had been utterly confused.

Yet, that was only part of what had supposedly happened. Joffrey Lannister, Harry Hardyng, and Theon Greyjoy had all disappeared into thin air and Roger had perished in the Kingswood, leaving no one to tell the tale.

Many different rumors had now spread throughout the capital.

Dany had tried to ignore them as best as possible, but that was easier said than done.

That the whole situation was weighing heavily on Aemon’s and her good-sister’s mind made the situation only worse.

Aemon had spent three weeks searching the Kingswood in company of Ser Loras and Arthur Dayne.

All in vain. They had neither found a sign of these two wayward young men and her niece Alys.

Dany spotted many more familiar faces among the ever-growing crowd of courtiers.

There was Lady Margaery Tyrell with her ladies and Princess Myrcella at Gaemon’s arm. Her good-brother was devoid of his usual smiles and had not spoken much since he had been questioned.

Lord Edmure and Lady Roslin were also there in company of Lady Stark. Only Robb was not here, probably stealing himself away in company Allyria Dayne.

They were wed and had yet to reveal the truth, but Dany understood that now was not the right moment.

Aegon was seated in the high seat of Riverrun, made of redwood. Seated a little below was his wife, Princess Shireen.

Queen Lyanna was the last one to join them.

She looked exhausted and had not even changed into fresh robes.

„Ser Kevan,“ Aegon called upon Tywin Lannister’s younger brother. „Please step forward and tell us about your findings.“

„This is all I know, your grace,“ Ser Kevan replied and lowered his gaze. „It seems my nephew and the men of his personal guard are missing. I do not know what happened to him. He has always been a rather hot-headed youth, but I doubt he would harm Princess Alysnne.“

„Lies,“ Queen Lyanna snarled. „And how would you explain the death of Ser Roger? Or what of Harry Hardyng’s and Theon Greyjoy’s sudden disappearance?“

Ser Kevan’s face concealed his real thoughts well. „Your grace…I understand your pain, but I do not see why my nephew would do such a thing. Perhaps he returned to Casterly Rock. I am sure my brother, Lord Tywin will be prepared to inform you about his return as soon as possible.“

but your daughter is blind and might have mistaken my nephew for someone else. The only thing I can tell you is that my nephew always was called back to Casterly Rock and that he was generous enough to take Lord Hardyng with him.“

„How generous of him,“ Aemon grumbled and tightened his grip on the handle of his chair.

Then, he waved his hand at Queen Lyanna, who looked as if she wanted to tear apart Ser Kevan Lannister.

„Please,“ Aegon said. „Let us handle this quietly.“

Lyanna frowned and returned to her place beside Lord Edmure and his Lady Roslin. Rhaenys had also joined them, though Dany hadn’t noticed when.

„Next I wish to hear Gaemon,“ Aegon said and jerked his head at his brother. „Come forward and tell us what you know about this incident. One of Lady Margaery’s ladies, Lady Desmara Redwyne, is missing as well. One of the other ladies implied that she had spoken to Alys on your behalf a day before the incident. Do you know anything about this matter?“

Gaemon squirmed beneath his brother’s gaze, but there was always a sense of pride in the way he carried himself.

Dany feared another fight and seeing Aemon so angry, she wrapped her arms around his shoulder to hold him back.

„I never told Lady Desmera anything,“ Gaemon replied and exchanged a brief glance with Princess Myrcella „And I do not believe Joffrey would do something like that. Perhaps there is another explanation…perhaps Alys took a liking to Theon Greyjoy.“

„How can you say something like that?“ Queen Lyanna asked in confusion. „Gae…,“ she was about to continue, but Aegon silenced her with a shake of her head.

„Please,“ Aegon said and frowned. „Let us hear what Gaemon has to say. Is this your last word, brother? Is that all you know about this incident?“

„This is all I know,“ Gaemon replied and bit his lips. „Dear brother.“

Aegon snorted and shifted his attention back to Ser Kevan.

„Ser Kevan,“ he said in a cold and distant voice. „I cannot lay charges against your nephew without knowing the whole truth. I urge you to write to your brother, Lord Tywin, to find his grandson and to bring him here to us so we can all judge this matter properly. The same shall be done for Lord Hardygn and Lord Theon Greyjoy. They must be found and questioned. I will not have this matter rest until I know more. Do you hear me?“

Kevan Lannister paled and lowered his head in acceptance.

„I do not think my brother will be pleased to have such allegations put against his grandson.“

„I care not what Tywin Lannister wants,“ Aegon replied coldly. „And to strengthen my demand, I shall keep Princess Myrcella and Lady Cersei Lannister as my hostages. Only in exchange for Joffrey Lannister will they be released. Do you understand?“

„No,“ Cersei Lannister shouted and stepped forward. She wore a long crimson dress and a cloak made of shining gold. Her golden locks spilled freely down her back and her green eyes were filled with rage, as she dared to interrupt the Prince of Dragonstone. „I shall not be treated like this! My son had nothing to do with this incident!“

Aegon almost smiled. „What makes you think you have a choice, my Lady?“

Then, he waved his hand at Ser Barristan Selmy and at Ser Loras Tyrell.“Please escort lady Cersei and Princess Myrcella to their chambers. They are under house arrest.“

Gaemon’s gaze was full of rage, but he was smart enough not to protest against his brother’s command.

Instead, he took Myrcella’s arm and led her away. At the same time, he was trying to calm Lady Cersei’s rage.

„I shall leave today if you permit it, your grace,“ Kevan Lannister added.

Aegon nodded his head in agreement. „You may leave us.“

When all was said and done, Lord Redwyne and the Queen of Thorn’s stepped forward. He was an overly nervous man with a receding hairline.

„Your grace,“ he said and smiled. „What about my daughter? Will she be attained as well? I cannot believe that she did this willingly…,“ he stuttered, but it was the Queen of Thorns who tapped her staff upon the floor to silence him.

„What my nephew is trying to say is that it is quite obvious what had happened here. Perhaps the perpetrator of this crime is the Theon Greyjoy…he was always a lusty boy and the soft legs of a princess are always enticing, especially for such barbaric folk as the Ironborn. Perhaps the young Lord Lannister and Lord Hardyng are just victims of a nasty Ironborn plot.“

„Perhaps, but Theon Greyjoy had no army to accomplish such a feat, my lady,“ Aemon added angrily. „But Joffrey…Well, he had a personal guard and Theon Greyjoy might have simply joined him because he offered him a way out of his life as a hostage. And Harry, I do not know what to make of him.“

The Queen of Thorns was not impressed by Aemon’s accusations.

„And you should remember that House Tyrell is bound to House Lannister in marriage. Upon your father’s command.“

„We heard you, my lady,“ Aegon agreed and forced a smile over his lips. „And with this exchange of pleasantries, we shall put an end to this tourney and meeting.“

Thus, the Queen of Thorns and the rest of the courtiers left.

„What will happen now?“ Daenerys asked later after they had retreated to Aegon’s chamber. Rhaenys had joined them as well, discussing the events of the day over a cup of wine. „What if Lord Tywin refuses? And what about Gaemon? He will not like this.“

„I have told Ser Arthur to keep an eye on Gaemon,“ Aegon said and rubbed his temples. „I wish father was here. Well, I think the best will be to return to King’s Landing.“

„Do that,“ Aemon said. „But I will go on a man-hunt. Give me men and one of the Kingsguard. Ser Loras seems eager enough and I shall find them. I swear it.“

„That is too dangerous,“ Rhaenys cautioned. „I think something is wrong here and we do not have all the details.“

Dany had to agree.

„Ser Loras can go on his own,“ Dany cautioned and brushed her hand over Aemon’s arm. „That’s his duty.“

Aemon pulled his hand free. „Do I have your agreement, Aegon?“

Aegon sighed and puffed his silver hair out of his face.

„You have my agreement.“

Aemon smiled.

„I thank you, brother.“

Upon their return to their own chamber, they found Jacaerys in company of Ghost. Ever since Aemon had introduced the two, Jace spent every free moment with the wolf.

What the animal thought about her son’s constant presence was hard to tell, for Ghost was a very unusual wolf.

He was very quiet and only made himself known when he was hungry and even then he usually didn’t make more than a soft whining sound.

That Jace was always adamant on giving his father’s wolf the best kind of food seemed to help to sway Ghost to his side. Whenever Jace came close to the wolf he would sniffle on his hands or lick his fingers.

Now Jace was playing with a ball, rolling it back and forth in front of Ghost’s face while the wolf was watching the young boy’s actions calmly.

Jacaerys‘ nursemaid was a different matter. The poor woman seemed mortified by the beast and watched their play from the anteroom.

Ghost only led go of Jace when he noticed her and Aemon’s presence.

The wolf pulled himself quickly to his feet and came to sniffle on Aemon’s arm for food.

Aemon gave a suppressed laugh and patted the wolf’s head while Dany shifted her attention to Jace who was seemingly unhappy that they had distracted his new playmate from their game.

„You stopped our play,“ he complained, but in a very polite manner as he took Daenerys hand and looked up to her. „I wanted to show Ghost a new game. He is a very slow learner, though.“

„He is a wolf, not a human,“ Aemon chided their son in an amused manner, though none of that amusement was enough to brush away his frown. Dany couldn’t blame him. His sister was missing and probably in the hands of Theon Greyjoy, Harry the Heir, and Joffrey Lannister. „He is also a direwolf and no pet dog. Direwolves are wild animals that prefer hunting over playing ball games with little children.“

Jace frowned at that, but he accepted the answer as the truth. He hardly knew Aemon, but he certainly didn’t defy him or even question the fact that he was his father.

Still, he remained hesitant towards his father, always eying him warily as if he was afraid of making the next step.

„Did you find Aunt Alys?“ he Jace asked instead and searched first Dany’s and then Aemon’s face.

„No,“ Dany replied and flashed Aemon a warning gaze. „We didn’t find her, but Aemon is going to search for her and we also have a good idea where she went.“

„Where did she go?“ Jace asked. „She can’t see, right?“

„No,“ Dany replied and patted his head. „She can’t see, but that is why it is so important to find her. Someone bad could have taken her.“

„I see,“ Jacaerys replied and noticed that Aemon had picked up the ball, eying it with a mixture of interest and sadness. „But what if you don’t find her?“

„Then, father will be very angry,“ Aemon replied with suppressed anger and drew closer to sit down in the nearby chair. He looked exhausted, his long dark hair falling into his face and hiding his scars. „And there will probably be war.“

„Like in the stories?“ Jace asked as if Aemon had spoken about a fairy tale. „Who will we be fighting?“

„No one,“ Dany told her son and kissed his cheek. „And now it is time for bed. Say goodnight.“

Jacaerys gave her that look that told her he was not all happy with actions.

„Goodnight, mother,“ Jace replied and shifted his attention to Aemon.

A moment of silence followed before Jace drew closer and lowered his head towards Aemon.

„Goodnight, father.“

Then, he took his nursemaid’s hand, who led him back to bed, leaving Aemon and Dany to themselves.

Dany had waited for that moment to speak her mind.

„Do you have to be so harsh with him?“ Dany asked in displeasure. The reason reason wasn’t Jace, though. The real reason was the fact that he had asked Aegon to give him leave to search for Alys. „He is just a child.“

„He is nearly four and a Prince,“ Aemon rebuffed her complaints with a shrug of his shoulders. „He has to learn that the world is not full of rainbow and sunshine. I learned that beyond the Wall.“

„I can see that,“ Dany replied and bit her lips. „And now you are charging off into a dangerous man-hunt? What do you think will that accomplish?“

„I will prevent a bloody war,“ Aemon replied. „And I will find Alys. She is not as helpless as you think. I am sure she will make herself known to me.“

Dany started at Aemon in confusion.

„How?“

Aemon smiled wearily and took her hand in his. „She is like me. A warg.“

**…**


End file.
